Sentio Omnium
by Lammybug
Summary: Prompt responses from the Fanfic50 challenge on LJ. Stand alones, continuations and everything in between.
1. Somniculouse

**Author's Note**: I have accepted another challenge for the Fanfic50 over at LJ. Had to contain myself because I almost signed on to do one series for General Versus fics and another for only Noctis/Stella fics, but thought that would be too much. Within a day or two, I will also be posting another story which is completely AU. Let's see how long this takes me.

Sentio Omnium is Latin for "Everyone's Perception/Opinion".

**Prompt**: #49 Drown

**Summary**: He should feel like he was suffocating, but he finds this type of drowning is liberating.

**A/N**: Stand alone.

Somniculouse is Latin for " to drown".

_**Somniculouse**_

As a boy, one of his favorite things had been to swim in the lake near the royal summer home. With its tall grasses and lily pads, clean water and wildlife, the lake was a source of endless entertainment. He had known so few joys and those summer days at the lake house had been his fondest. It was when those visits ended, that his soul felt clouded over with resentment and anger. His mother had been alive then and it is only when he is older that he realizes that it was only because of her, that he had ever been allowed to spend his summers here. This place, which housed all the good of his childhood memories. Very few that they were, they were the things that gave him a certain optimism that there were things in life that were simple and a cause for joy. Having to spend the majority of his later years in darkness and gloom in a bustling capital inside cold marble confines, those forays of summer that had once felt so bright had dimmed down into a simmer. The simmer that had almost completely faded as he grew older.

Most prevalent now were the memories of how his mother was torn from him. It had stained the happy memories tainted with the ugliness of death the day he had parted with her. That precious lifeline to all that was bright and cheerful had died with her. He should have died with her. He should have died too. Instead, he had lived and lived to see the black mourning that the kingdom had descended into after she had gone. She had been just like those summer days. The red, orange rays of that hazy summer sun had been like the love and affection she had always given him. Within the castle, that sun was often hidden away and kept away from him, but on those brief warm, sunny days it's comfort was there in abundance. It feels almost treacherous to him now as he recalls how much he had forgotten because of the after. After he had lived for another day while she had not. With her, went the warmth and reassurance and comfort. Too much had happened in the inbetween. Still, he should have never forgotten what she had meant to him.

Now, he can remember. He can remember because he could finally feel the sun again. His hands, habitually cold, could be bare and yet still warm without the presence of his gloves. He can think back to those sensations from so long ago. The sloshing sounds of the water. The whistling sounds of the wind blowing through the tall blades of grass. The hiccups of the frogs. Rowing the small canoe and lying against the smoothened wood to stare up at the clear skies with the music of chirping birds in his ears. Days of fishing and iced tea and lemonade, watermelons and ripe peaches. Where he did not have to wear shoes or confining robes and do nothing but mischief all day long. At night, there were camp fires and melting treats with starry heavens and singing crickets. There were bedtime stories and midnight snacks. Wholesome, pure, innocent things that encompassed all that his mother had made him feel.

For a long time those memories have been buried under the guilt of how careless he had been as a boy. Such profound guilt that the only way he had escaped with his sanity had been to repress it. Repress it until it was nothing, not even a memory. Not long after that tragic day, he had pushed all happy thoughts away and let the bleak politics of life engulf him instead. Guilt and remorse had turned into hardened anger. Warmth had turned into blistering frost. He pushed so far back that he convinced himself that he liked the cold better. The water that had housed such cheerful activities had chilled him, suffocated him and nearly drowned him as it had drowned his mother. He had not emerged from the water the same boy he had been when he had gone in before. It had felt like all that had been brilliant and lovely had died in the lake with his mother.

Until now.

"I killed her here," he confesses, looking out into the lake so many years later. It seemed an ageless thing of tranquil beauty but it housed such ugliness that he feels torn between the two perceptions. "She died right there."

"That was not your fault," she responds heatedly, but he does not turn to see the indignation in her eyes. He loves her all the more for defending him from himself. Even if he does not particularly agree with her.

"It was my fault she had to jump into the water that day," he explains. "She only enjoyed watching me fool around from here. She would never have gone into the water otherwise." No, mother preferred sit amid the grassy fields, surrounded by their picnic.

"I suppose you will tell me you planned to get caught within the roots of the grass and start drowning," she huffs.

He turned to look at her then and is hit by how well the scenery suits her. For a moment, he can forget the bad memories and see only the beauty of before. Golden hair with bright eyes and nothing but shining light. A beacon in the darkness.

"I knew better than to swim there," he tries again.

Her warm hand takes hold of his, while the other pulls on his chin to bring his gaze to hers.

"I am evil, Stella," he says, but deep down, he is begging her to save him.

"Will you kill me here too?" she challenges.

"Of course not!" he nearly shouts out in his urgency to respond.

"There is only one way to prove it," she says. She steps away from him to take off her shirt and linen pants until she is only wearing her swimsuit.

"Stella," he warns as she steps away backwards, keeping her eyes on him.

"I am just going in for a dip," she responds with a nod of finality. "You can stand here pouting or you can join me and we can move on together."

She does not wait for a response before turning and making a dash to the water before diving into the lake with the grace of a swan. Before he can have his moment of panic, her blond head emerges from the water. He watches as she giggles to herself from the simple joy of finding a reprieve from the suppressing heat of the sun. A heat he does not particularly feel under his black jacket. Her graceful form treads water as she stares back at him.

"Will you make me swim alone?" she beckons to him.

"Stella, this is not a good idea," he says, unsure of whether to step forward or back.

"Have you forgotten how to swim?" she taunts, her brilliant smile taking the sting away.

He only realizes he neglects to give a response when she speaks again.

"You have never looked before you leapt before," she reminds him.

She would be right, but he thinks she fails to realize it was an inner urge not to survive the fall that had him doing so and not bravery.

"If you start to drown, I'll save you," she promises. Her face is serious and encouraging and his feet have already begun inching towards her.

"The water looks cold," he hesitates, eyeing the goosebumps on her delicate skin from where he stands.

"Then I shall warm you too," she smiles. She inclines her head in that teasing, flirty look that suits her so well. It amazes him that she can retain that innocent optimism when she had seen so much of the opposite in her life as well.

"Will you?" he asks and they both know that he does not mean just this once.

"Yes," she vows with a nod.

Those violet eyes sparkle at him with so much emotion and life that he realizes just how dead he has really been. He drowns in her eyes as much as he drowns in all of her. It suddenly does not bother him if he did drown this time. The life he has lived was like drowning slowly in a thunderous storm. Now, he drowns in the calming waters of her love. What once was freezing and numbing has turned to the bubbling liveliness of a stream. _She_ did that. As soon as she had stepped into his life, the penetrating rays of those blissful summer days had returned. Only now, summer would be forever with him no matter if he left the lake or stayed. Without another thought, he tugs off his jacket, steps out of his boots and dives into the water to grab onto her.


	2. Cunctator

**Prompt: **#8 Procrastinate

**Summary: **Doing things last minute has consequences.

Cunctator is Latin for "Procrastinator".

_**Cunctator**_

The day was madness. Sheer chaotic, totally awesome _madness_ and he loved every frakkin' minute of it. Okay, not really. Well. Maybe. Just a little. He could do without the death glares though. The ones he was currently getting from the guys. He could _definitely_ do without Noct lookin' like he wanted to smack him upside the head with the butt of his own rifle. His head still smarted from the last time! Probably had a scar in the shape of seal at the butt on there too. With the three of them ganging up on him like this you'd think he did something wrong.

"You _did_ do something wrong," Ignis points out.

Had he said that out loud?

"Yes, you did," Noct, this time.

Huh.

Noct's standing at the doorway. His only means of escape without injury. If things get anymore stickier he was crashing through the paneglass window, scratches be damned.

"Are you even going to _try_ and think of an idiotic excuse to redeem yourself?" Glad asks that one.

The guffaw comes out before he can even think to stop it. Not that he would've anyway, but that's not really the point.

"What are you smirking at?" inquires Ignis. How did the guy always sound like that? He had THE best poker face. Ever.

"Seems almost an oxymoron you know?" he mentions through his snickers. "Him being called Glad when he's anything but."

"Etro," swears Noct with an incredulous shake of his head.

"Should I throw the first punch?" Glad asks Noct.

"At the rate he's going, this story might actually be funny," Ignis comments dryly.

"Not," adds Noct just as dryly. "But I do need something to tell Stella."

"What's Stell got to do with this?" he demands, trying to hide the first wave of true dread when he hears her involvement in the death glares. Stell had a _death_ glare on her. Those eye of hers were downright dangerous with that stink eyed look.

"This just gets better and better," remarks Ignis and that glint in his eye is just too darn sneaky like. Nothing good ever came out of anything when he got _that_ look in his eye.

"What day is today?" Noct asks.

Er, had to be a trick question. He knew this one! He wasn't _that _clueless.

"Your wedding day," he grins.

"And you only had one job to do," Glad utters with an eye roll of disgust. Not the first he's received and won't be the last.

"I'm here, aren't I?" he says snidely. He huffs, blowing a few hairs outta his eyes.

"Late," reminds Ignis.

"When you didn't stay long enough to go through the rehearsal last night either," adds Glad.

Get up early. Wear a tux. Stand pretty at the front of the alter. So what was the darn problem? He was here!

"So shouldn't we get this show on the road?" he prods.

"Speaking of roads," Ignis comments almost cheerfully and that was even worse than the glinty eye. "How was the drive over here?"

"Nuthin' I couldn't handle," he answers with a shrug.

The look the three exchange make him snappish.

"What?" he snaps defensively.

"Wanna tell us why you were rushing in the first place?" Ignis asks.

Oh. Heh.

His lips curve into his cheekiest grin.

"Late night," he says vaguely.

"I'll bet," Ignis remarks.

More than late actually. Sure, he could have done it earlier, but still. Inspiration was inspiration and it'd hit him smack between the eyes during the beginnings of the rehearsal the night before. Not his fault. Sure, he'd been too lazy to do it beforehand but knew that if he was gonna get it done, it had to be right at that second. So he'd left. He might have gotten, maybe, an hour of snooze time before he'd jerked upright with a loud snort. Hair a rat's nest, he'd realized if he didn't bust a move, he'd be late meeting the guys before the ceremony. Well, he was _still_ before the ceremony.

Heh.

"I'm not sure what's worse," Noct says on a sigh. More like a whistle through his teeth that just added to his nerves. Noct was nervous and Noct being nervous was never a good thing. "Him causing a pile up on the highway or why he was up all night."

"A master cannot be rushed!" he protests, his voice kinda squeaky in his excitement.

"And _that's_ your masterpiece," states Glad, pointing to the magnum opus in question parked just outside. The very means of transportation he'd used to get here.

Just the sight of that beauty makes him starry eyed. Dabnabbit he was good. They _had_ to give him that.

"You look at it, man. Then you tell me," he grins with a flourish.

"You know what? I think Stella should be the one to wallop him," Noct decides.

Okay he's worried now.

A lot.

"But it's tradition," he argues lamely.

"Which she ordered us _not_ to follow," Ignis reminds him.

"Besides…," Noct starts but he looks like he can't find the right words. "Well, it's really…"

"So I got a little carried away on certain parts…"

"A little?" that from Ignis.

"More like overkill," corrects Glad.

"Just wanted you and Stell to have all your bases covered," he reasons.

Ignis snorts and Glad blows a raspberry.

"Yeah, I'd like to see Noct take one of those and try one on for size," Ignis eyes one of his pop ups with a shudder. "The germs."

So says, Mr. Germaphobe.

"And you really should have been mindful of the new street cameras we installed on the highways last week," reminds Glad.

Heh? Why would that matter?

"I'd rather not picture Stella's face when I pulled out a condom that's been blown up into a poodle," shudders Noct. "I could smack you for that one mental image alone."

"Those were hard work and they look awesome!" he defends.

"Pro, my honeymoon limo has condoms in all shapes and sizes of _animals_," Noct reminds me and it looks like it's a toss up between disgust and laughter.

"It looks like a carnival reject," comments Ignis.

Which is kinda what he had been going for. They were a moving circus! Get it?

"You're making it seem like Stell's some Bridezilla or something. Which she isn't," he reassures needlessly cause they all knew that she wasn't. But she could be just as scary as any behemoth. "Besides, she's got a sense of humor and she's got a soft spot for me."

"She might have before, but considering what today is, that might not mean much," Ignis says with a nod to Noct.

What did he miss now?

"Aren't you wondering why the ceremony hasn't started yet?" asks Glad a little too patiently.

Uhoh.

"The pile up you just caused…" starts Noct.

"More like when you cut off two cars who rammed into the toll gate, instead of just waiting your turn to go through," adds Ignis.

"…is where my bride is currently stuck since the gate isn't a gate anymore, since there are two cars blocking the way," finishes Noct.

Oh.

"So that's two strikes, Prompto," Noct emphasizes with two fingers held up.

"Which means I gots one more!" he winks, but he's starting to feel that shaky stomach feeling that he hated.

Just then, Ignis gets a text on his mobile and there's a downright _evil_ look in his eye when he looks up at him after reading the message. The man was just that. Evil.

"You also tripped the caterer while you were stumbling over here as he was in the process of setting up the wedding cake. Apparently he face planted into the top tier and having a panic attack on how to fix it," Ignis announces.

Strike Three.

"But Stell doesn't know I did that," he says weakly.

"She was CC'd."

"Promp-to," Stella's usually cheerful voice sounds ready to whoop some fanny.

Namely his.

As he turns to look at her in the doorway, beside Noct, he can hear Ignis advise. "Next time, don't wait 'til the last second."

* * *

><p>For those who aren't familiar, it's a customprank for the groomsmen to decorate the car that would chauffeur the newly married couple to their honeymoon with condoms and the odd sortment of cans and tissue paper.


	3. Nota

**Prompt:** #29 Note

**Summary**: Something so little has turned into so much.

**A/N**: Stand alone

Nota is Latin for "note, sign, token, mark".

_**Nota**_

Little keepsakes. Soft tokens. Items of nostalgia. Mementos. Those things that held sentimental value were new to him. Keeping such signs of emotion would only reveal that he had a weakness. That mentality has been deeply engrained into him since infancy. Emotions were weak and he had many for her. This weakness was for her. It is a weakness that leaves him feeling unhinged, even now. He has never been one to openly express things. Subtle, snide, sarcasm had been the way show his scorn and he had, had plenty of it. Never blatant. Never open. So, keeping the signs of his own affection are against his self preserving nature. There were too many risks that someone might find them. Yet, it never prevents him from hording them jealously. At first, he was not even aware that he was doing it, until he noticed that he had almost filled an entire box of them. His first inclination had been to chuck the entire box, but there it was, still neatly put away from prying eyes. There were two now and he is certain he will need another soon. If only he could keep _her_ so safely tucked away. It is her that he really wants to horde so jealously, so protectively away from everyone else. Call him selfish. He is a King afterall. He has never been taught that he should share.

She had started innocently enough. He found the first note tucked neatly into the breast pocket of his jacket. How she had managed that, attested to how stealthy she could be. He could admire that.

_Come to Tenebrae._

Simple enough and it had not been signed. Brief, to the point and there had been no need for her to sign her name anyway. He did not know anyone else that would have said such a thing and who would do such a thing. Their brief introduction was not something that he would have forgotten even without the reminder. She had still been fresh in his mind when the note had been found. He had known immediately that she had been the sender. The flowing, elegant and almost teasing penmanship was so like her. Even the paper, was not the boring, brisk, business starched white of plain paper. No. It had been the kind of natural paper that did not tear and looked better crinkled. Real leaves entwined within the tiny threads of the small sheet. The type of pen used must have been quill tipped and smooth. The ink had been dark and solid. The kind that did not fade with time. In a digital age, such an effort had touched a hidden recess inside himself. The entire sentiment had left him piqued with interest and his interest has never wavered since.

He has often wondered how she knew just where to leave these notes for him to find. The locations were always so cleverly selected. She always made sure that only he would find them. For they would be hidden in what seemed to be random places, but clearly were not. One had been in his jeans, his wallet, in his mobile cover, in his boots, on his pillow, under his dinner plate, on his computer screen. Always when he least expected them and never disregarded.

They did not always say trivial things and they did not always say meaningful things. It did not matter what they said. Just the sight of them was enough to lift his spirits. The almost scratchy texture of the paper along with the subtle transfer of her perfume from her fingertips was a blast of fresh air. She never sprayed her fragrance directly onto the paper. He knew this because the scent always seemed to linger instead of overpower. He always let the curiosity and anticipation build before he actually moved to read her words. When he finally opens them, the familiar, loving strokes of her handwriting, in that lost art form, completely appealed to his senses and fulfilled his need. A need he had not even realized he possessed.

That someone should put forth such an effort for him. Him, as a person, an individual and not a prince or Crystal remnant. Of course, at first, he can admit he had been suspicious and on guard when he received the first few notes from her. Everyone always had a motive for the things they did and he knew that Stella was no different. Only, Stella's motives had not been selfish or self serving. Her motives have always been pure. She never asked favors within these little signs of hers. He had begun to realize eventually. When he had confronted her on them, she had merely smiled that whimsical, shimmering and completely entrancing smile of hers before telling him that she wrote them so that he would know she was thinking of him. So simple. So terribly endearing. More so when she had continued to send them, even when he never sent his own. Which further proved that she really did have only the truest of intentions. It had been so very different. Refreshingly different. Wonderfully different. It was as different as color in a world of black.

When once he had found another of her notes in the presence of his friends, one had commented on the illogic of leaving such a thing for him. A simple text message would have been faster and more practical. That was completely and utterly beside the point. Usually, he would have agreed that it was wasteful but these little tokens of hers filled a yearning that he had hidden since he had been a child. That need, that knowledge of someone's affection and foresight, that had nothing to do with his position in life. Servants to look after him were plentiful. Beautiful princesses who cared so genuinely, so unabashedly, so deeply for him as a man, were nonexistent. He cherished each and every one of the notes she left for him.

Even after they had married, the notes continued. Their frequency never seeing routine or regularity. They were always a surprise. Always at times when he needed them.

_I love you. _For the times he could not see her but needed her assurance.

_Longing for your quick return. _For the times he had to be away.

_I'm sorry. _For the times they fought.

_Listen to Ignis. _For the times he was being difficult.

_We shall not fail. _For the times that he doubted.

There was one note, though, that had scared him witless. It had been the first and only time the effect had not been entirely positive. Mind wiped of all thoughts, color draining from his already pale face kind of fear had washed over him. Never in his life, had he ever felt so inadequate and afraid. He would willingly fight Etro instead. In a lifetime of wanting to prove his worthiness, he found himself in too much doubt to even try. Then he had seen her, had felt the encouragement and trust that she had in him. One look at her and he knew he would anyway. Doubt was still there, but there was no defense against such a glow of happiness that had beamed forth from her. A beam, a ray of startling sunshine that radiated from her lovely form. That note would be the one that stayed close to his heart forever.

_We have created a life inside me._


	4. Desiderium

**Prompt: **#18 Regret

**Summary: **Sitting here across from him, she knows she made a very big mistake.

**A/N: **Inspired by "Back to December" by Taylor Swift.

Desiderium is Latin for "to regret".

_**Desiderium**_

Sitting there, a cup of coffee clenched in her hands, she hopes and waits. Each minute ticks by. Each second slowly making it seem like a lifetime before each small pass of the hand. The bell at the top of the door jingles, signaling the entrance of another patron, startling her. Her hands are shaking. She is so on edge that even with the expectation of the sound, it makes her jerk when she hears it. Then her heart's in her throat as she sees that it's his form that walks through the doorway. All the things that she had been planning to say, all the words she had been meticulously repeating in her head, vanish as she nearly weeps with relief at the sight of him. He had come. Despite it all, he was here. The joy that knowledge brings is pure bliss. Her eyes watch him through a watery blur as he surveys the other diners sitting at the tiny tables in the café before those deep, blue eyes spot her.

Seeing him standing there, actually physically standing there with his eyes staring at hers, she feels like she's finally come back home. It does not really matter that his face is carefully neutral as he looks at her. Just his presence is enough to make her feel like she is where she should be. Where she should have stayed all along. When he walks towards her, she stands to meet him and her smile comes easily for the first time since she had made the biggest misjudgment of her life.

"Hi," she says, her relief palpable in her voice.

"Hi," he responds in kind. He does not move to embrace her and he does not smile. There only politeness there and not the warmth of closeness.

"Can you sit with me?" she appeals to him, motioning to the chair across from her.

He nods, pulling out the chair to sit. Up close now she realizes that his eyes are unsure but he does meet her eye.

"Would you like something?" the suddenly attentive barista chirps cheerfully beside them. The very same one, who had completely ignored her when she had wanted to order five minutes before.

"Whatever the House Blend is. Black," he answers, but never once looks the way of the barista as he places the order.

She waits until the bouncing girl leaves before leaning in and smiling gratefully.

"I'm so glad you made time to see me," she says genuinely. "How's life? Tell me how the guys are."

He hesitates at the friendly question, before he plays along. "I have been good," he answers slowly and then shrugs. "Things have been busy."

She can imagine.

"The guys?"

"Same old. Same old," he replies.

The barista comes back with his coffee, taking her time setting the cup and saucer down, making sure to place enough napkins for him. He only acknowledges her presence with a nod of thanks and completely misses the wink the girl sends his way. After letting him know that he should feel free to call out to her if he needed anything else, she leaves them to be.

"What about you?" he asks quietly, looking into her face.

"Busy too," she answers just as hesitantly. Here she was, conducting meaningless chitchat when she had, had so many things to say to him. "Weather's been horrible." She wants to cringe when the mundane statement leaves her mouth.

"That it has," he agrees easily, but he looks just as distracted as she does. Neither are really focusing on the conversation.

She suddenly doesn't know what to do with her hands. Her eyes follow the movement of his wrists as he idly spins the coffee cup around the inner rim of the saucer before taking a sip of the smooth brew.

"Stella," he says, breaking the suffocating silence and leaning towards her. "What is it?"

His expression is not so neutral now as she looks at her. His tone holds wariness and uncertainty with not knowing what she could possibly want to meet him for. That alone makes her feel exorbitantly more guilty. He should have known. She should have never left him in any doubt. Yet, she had done just that. They both remember all too well how badly she had ended things the last time they had been together. How he had been willing to give them a chance. He had been willing to give her his heart. The image of him with flowers in his hand and the adoration in his gaze would be one she would remember when other memories have faded. It hurts so much to think of it. How cruel she had been to reject him, to reject that image.

Instead of embracing him then, she had thought it better that they parted. Their mission had been accomplished. They had survived. They had been the victors, together. However, there had been so much they both had needed to do. She had reasoned that they were too young and carried too many obligations to commit to each other. What she failed to realize then was that she had only been selfish to think it wouldn't have worked. She'd just been foolish. Stupid and selfish.

It made her the biggest hypocrite. She had been the one that demanded so much from him. It had always been him that had been distant and aloof. The one trying to keep a barrier between them. It was she that had pressed him. She had pushed him into acknowledging his feelings for her, to open up to her. Then when he finally acquiesced, giving her himself, she had said good bye. Shame, the likes of which made her feel lower than a parasite, has her lowering her eyes. Tears of regret and remorse fall down her cheeks. She had no right to ask him here.

"I'm sorry, Noctis," she weeps. "I'm so sorry for how I've acted. For not realizing that what was right, was that you were mine and I was yours." The plea for forgiveness comes from her entire spirit. She's not afraid to lay bare in front of him. She couldn't be proud now. There was nothing to be proud of. "I think back on that night and wish I could take it back."

His face shows no outward reaction to her penitence, but he does not back away from her pleading either.

"I haven't been able to sleep," she admits, before he can even try to cut her off. He can reject her and she would deserve it, but she needed to say these things anyway. "Thinking back on all those moments we had together. They weren't all happy but they were the best times of my life. These long months have taught me that our not being together is just… wrong. I miss you. I miss what we had together. If you could love me again I swear I'd love you right."

She peers at his face intently and notes that the hesitancy is still there but hurt now lingers in those striking eyes.

"I wish I could take that night back," she says again.

"But you can't," he says quietly, his eyes downcast as he stares at his cooling coffee.

"No," she says regretfully, shaking her head against the memory of it. "So I'm here begging you to love me again. To give me another chance. Because I love you. I've always loved you and I'm not afraid anymore."

"Why were you afraid before?" he asks, his eyes suddenly flying to hers.

"How fast and how deeply I fell for you," she says honestly. "But I realize now that you were just as afraid, only you were brave enough and I was the coward."

"And you're brave enough now?"

"Yes."

"Why now?"

Why had she wanted months to say what she was saying now?

"I was ashamed," she admits freely. "I suppose I needed time to miss you too and time to regret you. If you're in need of time too, I fully understand. I just want to know if there's a chance for a future for us."

"Would you wait?"

"Yes," she answers immediately. It shouldn't have even been a question. Of course she would. It was only fair given how callously she'd treated him when he had been so vulnerable. That hadn't been easy for him. A man that was so secretive and shy, to be so cruelly rebuffed. It shames her all over again. "I'll wait as long as it takes."

The admission seems to surprise him. She's never really been patient when it came to being with him, but this is her way of telling him that she's sincere and that she knows that gaining his trust again would take time. He wouldn't miss the significance of what she was promising him. She isn't disappointed when she sees that he wants to be convinced by her words but he's remembering that last night again.

"Will you… at least think it over?" she pleads.

He nods, twirling the cup again but not so idly now. Sucking in a quick breathe he says, "I have to get to get going."

"Of course," she replies, trying to hide how desolated she feels. They both stand awkwardly as he drops a few bills onto the table. "This is on me."

"No," he says with a shake of his head. The look in his eyes look more resolute instead of unsure. "I'll see you, Stella." He does not smile but he does not look objectionable either.

"I'll see you too, Noctis," she replies hopefully.

He looks down at the floor as if he wants to say something else.

"Good bye," he says finally and without another glance, he's walking back out the door.

The jingling of the bell seems louder this time. There's almost a finality to the ring and she hopes that it isn't a prelude of how things would turn out between them. Whether he decided to give her another chance or not. It would never replace the regret she would have every time she thought back to that night back in December.

The door to the café reopens and in walks the barista. It's not in her to be curious about why the woman had been out there in the first place. But she watches her as the girl makes her way to her table with a hand hidden behind her. When she reaches her table, she meets the woman's eyes with confusion.

"He told me to give this to you," the barista explains, laying a small object onto the table beside her hand.

It's not until the other woman walks away that she looks down to see what it is. A sob chokes her as tears fall freely down her cheeks. There was her answer.

He had given her, her favorite flower as he had that night back in December.


	5. Temptatio

**Prompt: **#1 Temptation

**Summary: **It was a trial that left no room for error.

**A/N: **Temptatio is Latin for "trial, temptation".

From the Eclipse Series.

_**Temptatio**_

Trial and error. Life was just a huge experiment of trial and error… and sometimes temptation. Well, maybe a lot more than sometimes. The trying and the testing were what he lived for. He thrived on the unknown complexities of solving a problem. They were just solutions that were waiting to be found. Temptation? That was always a part of the process if one cared to think about it. That want, that desire to experiment was always so very enticing to him. He was always up for a challenge and stressful situations, piled with pressure were his comfort zones. It is what made him so good at what he'd always been trained to do. It was why he had been chosen for what he did in the first place. Because he was good at it and he had the drive for it. He was naturally gifted that way. He did whatever it took to find a solution and he loved doing it.

What he'd never counted on was trying to find a solution for himself. Up until this point, the answers were always for impersonal things. He's usually had third party advantage. Looking from outside the bubble. How he'd overlooked that major detail had him rolling his eyes at himself. The answers he'd always managed to uncover had always been for the sake of others, mainly Noctis. Noct had always been his No. 1 priority since he'd been old enough to start making friends. His life had been dedicated to see Noct through any situation, no matter how sticky or hairy. He was all that he could be and he liked that just fine. There was a deep satisfaction whenever he was useful to his King, his Lord, his Friend, his Brother. All his Brothers and all his friends actually. He liked being the listening ear, the source of sound advice, the one granting an upgrade on the latest and greatest in innovation, strategizing and offering ideas. So, you'd think that someone who was totally capable of being the one to count on, the one who was always on top of everything, would not know what he was doing in his own life. He really hadn't the foggiest idea. Totally clueless and way out of his league. Which was _very_ frustrating.

It had never occurred to him that his efficiency had a lot to do with his lack of emotional involvement. Not that he was a complete corpse when it came to having them, it's just that the drama wasn't his. He'd never been directly related other than the occasional danger to his own life scenario. Now, it was just, not his area of expertise. When Noct or any of the other guys ranted on, he was always able to keep it together enough to calm them down. Casually making some dry comment always eased the tension. Stella's arrival into Noct's life had been, well, let's just say he'd never been as tempted to read a romance novel as he had during that time when the two weren't getting along, just so he could have a clue as to what was going on. He likes to think his advice had been sound regardless, because he was able to think logically whereas Noct was too much in an upheaval to. Putting the emotion factor into a plan had always been something he couldn't properly predict and compute. People were sporadic and complicated. At least a computer did what it was told and nothing else. That was simple. People were not simple and he realizes he's not so simple himself. Not now with his own emotions in the mix. It's like putting a ratchet through his wheels. It was more like having the tires mangled while he'd been at top speed and knocking him flat on his back and completely winding him. It feels just like that. He can't seem to get a real breathe in at all lately.

This was really not his element. Not at all. Which made him feel like he was a fraud because he couldn't _think_. He couldn't do his regular rationalizing and putting together. A chart with the pros and cons hadn't helped either. He was 99% stumped. 100% fail in this crash course in having feelings. As smart as Noct was, sometimes he was pretty thick and he's found out that he's just as thick as Noct had ever been. They must _all_ be pretty thick since they have their better judgment so clouded over. Feelings blurred out logic, scrambled order and reeked havoc on otherwise intelligent men. He might as well be a bobblehead with the way he couldn't seem to concentrate.

No, that wasn't right. He could concentrate. It was just that he could only concentrate on _her_. Her smile. Her eyes. Her laugh. Her face. Her hair. Her figure. Her voice. Her, her, her. Without even the slightest provocation, it was always about anything related to her. He felt consumed and conquered and he's never felt so unprepared and inadequate before. True, he has felt these things towards other women before. The odd fancy and lust and attraction. Temporary distractions. Nothing complicated about basic genetic makeup. He was a man. But nothing even close to this level of almost obsessive compulsion that she induced in him. Her every, everything appealed to him. Her, the one who would one day marry his rifle carrying friend. He's always been resigned to that. The two of them had always clicked. Clicked in a way he would never click with her. What could he possibly offer her, but a lonely life as a housewife who's husband worked 24/7. Who had zero time for her or for anyone else.

Oh frak. When had he become _that_ guy? The selfish bastard that lusted after his friend's intended. When had he become that schmuck? It was pathetic. This was a very bad joke. That he, of all people, was tempted. That he'd fallen so desperately in love with Mira that he actually thought he could steal her away from the one in their group that never had a problem with picking up women. Maybe that was stretching. None of them had trouble picking up girls but that was more because of their association to Noct than them as individuals. Still. His friend had a huge advantage in that he had more of a natural ability to talk to women where he had the natural ability to talk to machines. Tech speak. Tech head.

Trial and error. Trial and error and temptation. A whole lot more error than anything else, with heaps of temptation in the mix. He had to try because if he didn't, he'd always regret not doing anything. He was a man of action and to do nothing was not acceptable. Nobody had made any promises to anybody, which meant that Mira was still free to be pursued. There was be a very small margin for error but he had an abundance of multi tasking, quickly adaptable ways of adjusting. Wooing had never been part of his curriculum. So he would have to extremely creative to make up for the lack of education. He'd never make the cut as a romantic figure but he could be thoughtful. He _was_ thoughtful. He had to try, even though he would most likely fail. He was too tempted not to.


	6. Tumulo

**Prompt: **#14 Bury

**Summary: **Trials in marriage.

**A/N: **Tumulo is Latin for "to bury".

From the Eclipse Series.

_**Tumulo**_

Marriage was not easy. No matter how many times she had heard that while growing up, it was significantly different to endure the trials first hand. She could not even begin to understand why many rushed into it without thinking things through properly. So many she knew had married for convenience or position or necessity. Many of them _placed_ into the arrangement. She had been fortunate to marry for love. Hers was a novel love story. A love that had prevailed against the opposition of a goddess. She was gifted with a husband who loved her unconditionally. One who would sacrifice anything for her sake. Yet _still_, marriage was difficult. When she combined the normal acclimation of living with another individual, learning to consider their feelings before her own and varying degrees of compromise along with all it encompassed to be a reigning Queen and Crystal Bearer. Not forgetting, of course, that she was married to the most powerful man on the planet. The leader of the Crystal Bearers. There were plenty of things that they had to handle and take care of.

The last three weeks have been particularly trying though. She had been uncharacteristically tired and sick. Which was more like exhausted, irritable and alone. At first she had attributed her exhaustion to the typical feminine troubles that usually caused this sort of fatigue. Only, this was something a little different. This left her feeling light headed and extremely sensitive to smells. There was no nausea or headaches but a certain acuteness to her senses that made it more difficult to keep usual composure. She has never been a snappish sort of person but she when she found herself almost lashing out at a passing servant, she knew something was wrong. True she missed her husband dearly. Noctis' absence often triggered a sense of unbalance whenever he was forced to take a trip away from the city. It never felt right when he had to be away.

These last three weeks, however, have been different. Noctis was not on a trip. He was simply not around. It feels like months since they had spent more than ten minutes to themselves at any given time. When she laid her head at night to sleep, it was to a cold empty space beside her. In the mornings, she opened her eyes to the dented pillow and rumpled sheets to prove that he had been there but had gone before she woke to appreciate his presence beside her. She longed for him. She wanted her husband. The knowledge that it was not by his own choice that he was absent so frequently did nothing to appease how dejected she felt. It made her feel like a pouty child and nothing like the refined queen she should be.

Yes, she knew that Noctis had countless things that he needed to oversee, decide and discuss with various peoples. As understanding as she was, she was getting downright depressed. This dependency bothered her so much already. She needed to be strong and patient for his sake and her own. So when she finds herself becoming jealous of the other leaders because they got to spend more time with her husband than she did, she finally decided maybe she needed to see a doctor for this. Obviously, something was wrong with her because she found herself quickly becoming someone she did not know. She was becoming downright _ridiculous_. So she had gone to the doctor in hopes of hearing that she had some vitamin deficiency or some womanly hormone imbalance. She had heard that once she got older, she would experience things like that. It had seemed like it was the only viable solution.

She was given a clean bill of health. Even when she suggested maybe she should seek some sort of psychiatric help, the doctor had simply chuckled at her. Chuckled! She was healthy. As healthy as any woman her age could be. She obviously had strong genes and a very powerful desire to live. The doctor had assured her that all was well and as it should be, trying to be reassuring but failing. Especially when she was forced to endure another night falling asleep alone, without the comfort of the one she needed the most.

Morning again. Another morning where she would have to wake as lonely as she had gone to sleep and see the evidence that he had come but already gone. She does not think she can open her eyes to the sight again. The trip to the doctor had given her a different sort of anxiety that made her feel that much more anxious about seeing Noctis, to feel the calm assurance of his arms around her. Unwilling to open her eyes and see the evidence of a phantom Noctis, she keeps her eyes closed instead. Just for a little while, she would like to pretend, at least, that he was there.

There is a subtle shift on the mattress from beside her before a familiar set of arms glide around her waist to gather her into a warm body. The presence is too strong, too potent, too invigorating to be from memory. As if she had conjured him up in her mind, he is there.

"How I have missed you, Bright Star," he breathes into her ear, holding her a little tighter when she stiffens at the sound of his voice.

"Noctis," she sighs, turning over quickly to look her fill of him in amazement. Not her imagination at all. Her husband is here. He is _really_ here. "I thought I was imagining." She reaches up to touch the tips of her fingers to his face and slides them soothingly along his most cherished features.

"As I imagined waking you all those nights to tell you I was always here," he replies regretfully. "You cannot know how hard it has been to leave you each morning."

"As hard as it has been to wake without you," she answers.

His lips press kisses all over her face that feel like a poetically worded apology and she feels like within them, he breathes life back into her. She can feel her turbulent thoughts fade and a sense of ease fill her.

"I'm sorry, luv," he whispers, gently stroking along her skin. "Believe me when I say I never want to leave this bed."

"I know," she says, truly understanding.

"If only I could bury myself in these sheets with you and keep the outside away," he laments, kissing her lips and the tip of her nose. "So we could never be separated." He pulls the sheet over both their heads like a shield.

"How beautiful that would be," she muses. "Until the guys came barging in here and dragging us both out of bed."

They both chuckle softly as they snuggle closer to together in the mass of sheets. He grasps her neck and runs the pad of his thumb across her lips, staring at her intently. His other hand caresses down her arm.

"I will do better," he promises.

"Wake me next time," she compromises, not wanting to burden him. "I would rather you woke me. No matter how late."

"I promise, Bright Star," he vows, kissing her deeply and his touches become urgent.

She finds herself giggling with glee with the simple joy of having him with her, of being loved and wanted by him. Before he can drive her to distraction with his kisses and his touch, she grabs hold of his face to gain his attention.

"We must take advantage of being alone," she whispers conspiratorially.

"I agree," he says, leaning down to kiss her neck.

"Because soon we will be sharing this bed," she explains.

Noctis' body stiffens completely. His body taunt with tension.

"What?" he barks, lifting his head high enough to stare down at her in disbelief. His eyes look on the verge of simmering anger at whoever would dare share this space with them. There is confusion there too for how calmly she seems at this. She almost laughs at his misinterpretation of her news.

"I suppose we are already sharing," she says wistfully, trying to feign ignorance at just how still he has become.

"Who?" he demands, looking almost miserable in his anger.

"I would not worry over much," she says lightly, making a grab for his hand and placing it atop her abdomen. "I hardly think you will mind when you meet him." She lifts her face to rub her nose against his.

"You mean… Stella we…," he gapes, lifting himself off of her, causing the sheet to fall away from them as he places both of his hands on her stomach.

"Yes," she all but squeals as his touch tickles her. She squeaks when he snatches her up and rolls over so that she lies on top of him.

"It does not matter who," he says with a sparkle in those beloved red eyes of his. "I shall always take exception to sharing you."

She laughs at the playful teasing and runs her hand lovingly through his impossible hair.

"I also take exception to you sharing the bed with anyone besides myself," he says.

"Even if you are there too?" she asks innocently.

"But as you say," he continues, giving her a mocking stern glance. "We must take advantage of the time alone, which works perfectly into what I had already determined for today."

"What would that be, my Lord?" she asks, kissing his chin.

"We are not leaving this bed today."


	7. Sortilegus

**Prompt:** #42 Psychic

**Summary**: There were some things he didn't even know.

**A/N:** First in an ongoing series within Sentio Omnium.

Sortilegus is Latin for "soothsayer".

**_Sortilegus_**

"Ack! Iggy, that was uglier than a behemoth getting an enema!"

"Not the mental image I needed right now!" shouts Noct.

"Ouch! We're on the same team you know!" cries Prompto.

"Sorry, hilt slipped," he says, not the least bit sorry for nearly clobbering his loud mouthed friend on the head just then. "Call me Iggy again and I'll clog your barrel."

"You wouldn't!"

"Oh yeah I would!" he threatens, dodging another attack and sliding under the arm of one of his three opponents to deliver a strike of his own.

"The nickname is an endearment!" Pro protests over the clanging of clashing metal.

"Next you'll be calling him sweetie," snorts Gladiolus, as he uses the flat edge of his blade to smash against the elaborate helmet of a foe.

"That's only reserved for you, Honey," winks Pro, ducking just in time to save his hair from Glad's sword.

"Watch it!" cries Pro. "See? Pay attention big guy."

"I was," retorts Glad.

"Noct, two o'clock," he warns, throwing a small dagger into the one who had been rushing Noct from behind.

Distantly, they begin to hear a rumbling sound of something big and heavy barreling in their direction. He'd say about four blocks away, give or take, but the ground shakes like they're standing in the epicenter of an earthquake anyway.

"Woh. WOH!" cries Pro as he almost loses his balance. Which was probably a good thing since he would've gotten his thick head blasted off if he hadn't. The shot is close enough to, obviously, make him feel it though. "Son of a …"

"Steady on your feet!" he snaps, trying to make his way towards the far end of the hall to get a good look at what was approaching.

"Did the zoo get released?" growls Glad, taking a wide swing with his massive sword. A loud clunk and crunch signals a good shot and a downed enemy. Opposing side of not, the sound makes him internally cringe. He didn't envy that one.

"It's like Noct's fancy chess set came to life," mocks Pro, ramming the butt of his rifle against the helmet of one before rolling his rifle and taking a shot at another.

"Just how many chess sets do you have, Noct?" he asks dryly, swerving in time to miss a swing aimed at his waist and stabs his saber through a weak spot in the armor. He makes a run directly to the middle of the attacking horde.

"Iggy, I'm writing you up for negligence," complains Pro, cocking his gun and firing off a round.

"What for?" he asks conversationally, twisting his body to deliver another fatal blow.

"Ha! Double Kill!" shouts Pro triumphantly as two more join the fallen on the floor. "How many points is that?"

"Not as many as mine," Noct announces cheerfully, busy fighting off his own bunch of invaders.

"Just because he's the main hero," grumbles Pro with no real resentment.

"You're not as interesting as Noct," reminds Glad.

"True that," concedes Pro with a knowing grin.

"Back up!" warns Noct, which the three of them immediately react to by leaping back as he summons fire to scorch the remaining opponents.

"When do I get to do tricks like that?" complains Pro, gesturing to the litter of bodies before them.

Another hard jolt prevents any of them from answering as they fight to remain on their feet.

"That's our cue to move on to the next scene," comments Glad.

The four of them nod in agreement before they move as one towards the outer doors.

"Last one out the door is a…," Pro gives a choked shout, but he manages to grab hold of his friend's collar and jerking him back from running blindly through the doorway. "Ack! Iggy!"

A good thing too considering the behemoth that's waiting for them was poised to blast them into ashes as soon as they stepped foot out onto the street, but thankfully, only manages to char the iron door they need to get out of instead.

"How many times do I have to tell you about not dashing into a situation with guns blazing without assessing the situation properly?" he asks, smacking his blonde friend in the back of the head, who is too busy making a big production of choking to acknowledge the blow…. at first.

"Being manhandled!" Pro complains. He reaches up to scratch his head in a clueless gesture.

"Saving your sorry arse," he says with a roll of his eyes. "Guess I'm not really neglecting my duties afterall, am I?"

"As the resident psychic?" Pro grins.

"Wouldn't be the first time he knew," comments Glad.

"So, any way can we get out there to kick some behemoth arse now, oh soothsayer?" prompts Pro mockingly.

"Besides using you as bait?" he asks dryly.

"Not a bad idea actually," comments Noct, thinking it over.

"Oh! That look always means trouble," cries Pro. "I love it!"

"Do you hear that?" he asks gesturing for them to be still as he strains his ears to hear beyond the huffing and pounding of feet on the other side of the door. "It sounds like an airship." He looks at Noct, who nods his head as he becomes aware of the approaching ship too.

"How big?" asks Glad the both of them.

"Average," answers Noct with that far away look that meant his senses were kicking in.

For reasons he can't possibly fathom, he looks at Glad and the almost sixth sense that he has, prickles with chills down his spine. Glad returns his look with one of concern but, as always, doesn't ask. Designated the "tough" one in their group, Glad was more of a shoot first ask questions later, kinda guy. They've all learned not to question how he seems to know certain things before they happen just like he doesn't question any of their abilities. They had them and they just _knew_.

"Big enough to house more soldiers," Noct says. "But not heavier than the monster outside."

He looks at Glad again.

"Okay now _that_ look freaks me out. What's going on?" demands Pro, looking between he and Glad.

"Prompto, I need you street side, on the second level," he orders instead.

"That little overhang just outside?"

"Exactly. Go through that doorway and meet us up there."

"I'm going with him," Noct says, looking between him and Gladiolus curiously, before tapping Pro on the shoulder in a silent order to get moving.

When they are both out of ear shot, he turns to look at Glad again.

"It's not good is it," Glad states.

"I don't know yet," he answers honestly. "But whatever's in that airship has to do with you, eventually."

"Eventually?"

"I'm not _really_ psychic you know," he confesses sardonically.

"Could have fooled me," snorts Glad good naturedly.

"Just a funny feeling."

"You think I'm gonna betray Noct?" Glad asks, but there isn't any heat in it.

"Never," he replies with conviction.

None of them would ever betray Noct.

Glad lets out a sigh of relief.

"You doubted?" he asks.

"Nope," answers Glad easily. "Just didn't want _Noct_ to ever doubt me."

"He wouldn't."

"That means a lot."

"To me too," he confesses.

"You think whatever's on that ship will kill me?" Glad asks, not fearfully, but more introspectively.

"Over here you big ugly brute!" they hear Pro shout from outside, just before a huge explosion rocks the ground.

"Guess that's our cue," Glad mutters.

"You ready?" he asks.

"Always," grins Glad.

He manages to grin back before they both make a dive out the door to join back in the fighting.


	8. Durus

**Prompt**: #35 Strong

**Summary**: Everyone has something to contribute to the group.

**A/N**: Companion piece to the Psychic Prompt. If you'll remember, I called Gladiolus, "Durus", within Adventum and Creperum. Now you know why. ;)

Durus is Latin for "hard, harsh, strong, rough, tough".

_**Durus**_

If you were to ask whether the common phrase, "Appearances can be deceiving", applied to him he'd deny it so fast you'd feel the whiplash. Not because it wasn't true. It's that he scoffed at the cliché. He was what he was and whether you were smart enough to see it or not, was your own misconception. What he thinks is even more moronic was that people thought he was stupid too. Where did it say that being tough was the same as being stupid? That muscles meant no brain? It wasn't in any scientific text he'd ever read and he's certainly checked. Wasn't the brain a _muscle_ to begin with? If anything, he'd say that would make him _smarter_ than the average twerp. Makes him scoff every time he ran into such an ignorant idiot. He has no idea where the prejudice came from, but he made sure people knew the score real quick. Those ones that thought he'd be easy to outsmart and slow on the uptake. He thinks it might have more to do with the long, jagged scar that ran down his eye. Almost strategic, but again, when did scars mean stupid either? The scar just made his already rigid features that much more sharp. He wasn't a pretty boy and wouldn't have come close even if he didn't have the scar either. He preferred not to even look close to one, hands down. There was never _any_ doubt that he was all harsh male at first glance. He had that patented intimidating, death glare perfected to a tee. Didn't ever take much to make an enemy quiver in his boots with that. A little knuckle crunching went a long way too.

When his charming good looks weren't enough of a motivation (and he _really_ hated it when that was all it took) he had his little old lady to do the talking for him. Affectionately called, Battle Axe, she's met many a foe with the sharpness of her blade. She was a thing of beauty. Long, curvy and sharp and when he shined her (which was frequently) the shiny glean of her metal was something to behold. The perfect companion. He and the guys considered this (the sharpening, cleaning, oiling and finishing of their weapons) their male bonding time. Even with all the fancy crap sold in shops for the upkeep of their personalized beauties, that guaranteed faster results with less effort, he had no use for them. He knew they felt the same. There was nothing like the feel of the blade sharpening under the musical glide of a smooth rock. That wasn't exchangeable in his opinion. Keeping his armory in tip top shape was a matter of pride for him and for his friends too.

Battle Axe, just like any old lady, seemed to know just what he needed when he needed it too. The over compensating morons, with the fancy armor were such overkill it makes him want to roll his eyes. Why the waste of iron melding to make such fancy monkey suits? They were useless. It didn't make sense when it took away your flexibility and your sight. Two things that were absolutely vital in a fight. It didn't even really _shield_ you either. Especially against he and his crew, who all knew where the armor was weakest. All the same, every battle left a dent in his lady and that meant some hard pounding with a heavy mallet and a _very_ hot broiler. But the heavy slamming was soothing too. He got to beat out his remaining adrenaline and anger while he went about removing the dent. Whatever those brainless minions were using in their suits, it was definitely resilient, but put enough force against anything and it'll eventually crack. Force was what he had in spades.

Looking at the other three that made up their little band, it was a no brainer what his role was in this outfit. The Brawn. The Muscle. The Brute. He was the tallest. He was the bulkiest. He was the most muscled. He had the ugliest mug. The kind only his mama could love. Which was more than okay with him anyway. His mother was a good woman and he liked to believe she had raised a good man. Regardless that he didn't _look _like a good man, that wasn't the point. He'd never been a bully, even though he'd used intimidation more than once, but only when the need arose. But he's never taken advantage and he only got violent with those that had it coming. Defending his country and his friends and the royalty were what he did, at all cost. It was what he wanted to do. Picking on the innocent and less fortunate was a no. _Frak_ no. His mother had taught him better than that. What he did suited him just fine and there wasn't a _thing_ he'd rather be doing instead. What guy didn't appreciate a gig that _paid_ him to hang out with his friends and kick some bad guy ass? To be a hero? Otherwise, he'd probably be stuck as some pansy office worker, pushin' paper in a small cubby. (shudders) That would have been the only way he could make enough to support his mother and himself. So no, this life suited him. The perks weren't even what made it all worth it either. Just that sense of accomplishment was good enough and then getting paid for it to boot. Sure, mother would have preferred he do something a little less dangerous but these were dangerous times. One can't have it all, but he think he's pretty darn close.

He was a simple man and under the rough exterior, soft hearted and kind. He liked simple things. Not because he was too stupid for the more challenging, but because he left the hard decisions to Noct and Ignis. He preferred to leave that stuff to them. His role wasn't as The Thinker, afterall. _They_ were the brains and if he had any opinions, he made sure to chime in. something that he always cherished and appreciated was how the others always put his thoughts into consideration too. They were the geniuses and they were smart enough to realize that if he bothered to say it, it should be noted.

Shy, was not a trait he was familiar with. His line of work was not for someone who was timid. Other times? Well, even in other times, bashful wouldn't be a word you'd think of when you saw him. Besides, he wasn't The Talker either. He was the steely looking fellow with his arms crossed, glaring at you while he waited for his instructions. But, to his secret embarrassment, he _could_ be shy. Certainly not to other men and not exactly to every woman either. As big a brute as he was, sometimes a little old lady could have him blushing like a choir boy. That seemed to be one of his weaknesses. Those frail little grandmas with the constitutions of his beloved Battle Axe. They were part of the ones who had him tongue tied, blubbering and actually tip toeing his massive weight to get out of their way. All so that he could end up imitating a cherry when they patted his stomach (they could never reach any higher) and said he was a good boy.

Women weren't exactly a problem for him. They weren't necessarily a solution either. He stayed away from them mostly, because they fell into "complicated". No, it was more like a head scratching, clueless kind of confused complications. It wasn't too hard to pick on up for a night but trying to do something like having a deep, meaningful relationship had him quaking in his boots. Really. Literally, hands sweaty, beaded forehead and knobby knees kinda terrified. Darn well intimidating, relationships were. Horrific. He was not a smooth operator like Pro when it came to the ladies but he's always felt words were really a waste of time. Time which could instead be used for other things, not wasted trying to sound slick when they should know the game already. Attraction was there or not. Simple. Just like he preferred. Not that _all _women didn't deserve being wooed, but he didn't have the mind for something serious enough to try courting. He always made a point of treating any lady he was with well. It was just never a permanent thing. Which is why he stayed away from innocents. The nice, homey ones that you had to marry, buy a nice house for and have kids with. Maybe, eventually he'd settle for that, but not in the near future. That was for sure. If he ever had one, that is.

Given his profession, he's never expected to have a long life. But lately, the end seemed sooner than later. He's not afraid of dying and he's always wanted a hero's kind of death. So that was fine with him too. It's just that he can't shake the uneasy feeling that life was gonna throw him the mother of all curve balls. He didn't like the implications of something that complicated. He was a simple man afterall. He wasn't cut out for that self meditation, self awareness, new age bull. He left that up to Noct and Ignis. But it looks like he wouldn't be getting a choice this time.


	9. Misfacio

Prompt: #34 Wrong

Summary: She was ready to fulfill her destiny.

A/N: In game. Ongoing series. Companion piece to the Psychic and Strong prompts.

Misfacio is Latin for "to do wrong, injure, hurt, harm".

_**Misfacio**_

This is the mission she was born for. This was her destiny, her fate, her intended. It is the pinnacle of all that would define her in history. She has trained endlessly, planned zealously, relished unfailingly, so that she could arrive at this very moment and face the wretched boy that would be king. Only, he would never actually be a king. She would make absolutely sure of that. His defeat will be her ultimate victory. They have come too close. She had trained too well to fail such a simple task now.

Prince Noctis was known to be a brat. A selfish, self centered, cocky little boy on the verge of becoming an equally self absorbed, priss of a man. It would be easy. Training urged caution. She has enough experience to never underestimate the unpredictability, desperation often yielded. People did the most unexpected, outrageous things in a last ditch attempt to remain alive and she knew that the Prince would be one of them. Not that she thought he would be difficult to kill regardless. She would toy with him a little bit first. Maybe even tease him before she went for the kill. It wouldn't be fun at all if she got straight to things right away. She needed to relish his defeat and savor her triumph. Desperate creatures could be amusing when they did desperate things to survive. She also had little doubt that the sniveling Prince would play dirty as well. She was definitely looking forward to _that_. It would give her more of a thrill than anything.

When she had gotten her first glimpse of the pampered prince of Nihilsomno, he seemed just as useless as his countless pictures had already conveyed. She acknowledged that he seemed to favor the company of three companions, but they were not her target so she paid them no mind. They were already figured into the plan but it was not her responsibility to dispose of them. His companions would be diverted so that she could face the prince alone. They would not be able to save him. Though it often rankled her nerves and her pride, that she should devote so much of her blood, sweat and tears for a confrontation that promised to be brief. Too brief. Definitely not worth the years of devotion she had given for just that one moment to stand off against an unworthy opponent. But the Wise One had counseled her to be cautious nonetheless. The Nihil were treacherous, self serving, selfish beings that wasted that which was precious and horded what should be shared. So, they were going to steal the Crystal and kill the heir to their throne and it would be her blade that soaked in the waters of his blood. They would conquer at last!

The familiar, rush of adrenaline beats out the harsh winds as she steps onto the open platform of her airship. The moment has finally arrived. She could see the distant flashes of light that signaled a heavy battle and a shiver of anticipation tingles her spine. At least they were putting up a proper fight. She was itching for a proper fight.

"Steady now," she commands her pilot. "Hover closer. Tell the men to start diverting the Prince away from his friends." She smirks _insightfully_. He is overly eager and will be drawn away easily enough in the chaos.

"Yes, my Lady," is the answer from her pilot.

"Fancy flashing lights," she comments snidely, inwardly pleased that he seemed to have a little bit of grit to him. Her fingers curl in pleasure around the hilt of her sword.

Keen eyes watch and observe in order to assess her prey. Though he is not much younger than herself, the eagerness of youth are telling within his body language. He fells another soldier and to her surprise and approval, his eyes look up, meeting her own dead on.

"Brave," she whispers to herself as her lips curl into an evil smile. "Foolishly so." At least he was not a coward. "Foolish indeed," she concedes when he walks forward of his own volition, leaving his bodyguards behind. His stroll is confident and sure. He seems to have already accessed that it is _her_ that this attack was really for. She feels the ensuing excitement almost explode within her to see that he is far more knowledgeable than their spies had given him credit for. More than even she had given him credit for.

"I am going to enjoy this," she says, taking the leap down. Her diving form is flawless and fluid as she flips and twists her body, showcasing her curves to her best advantage. She makes sure to make a big show of her landing before twirling with a grand flourish and striking an impressive pose as she stands before him after so much anticipation.

Somehow, having him so close and holding his complete attention, has her seeing him in a different light. Not that he _looked_ any different than when she had looked through countless photos of him or even when she had done her own surveillance on him. The face that met her stare was the same familiar one of the male that she had been studying all this time, yet was also completely not, all at once. She could easily tell by the way his fingers curled in expectation and readiness of her first move, so that he could adapt his own movements to match hers. This was a fighter, just as she was a fighter herself. The cool intelligence had none of the naïve, adolescent ignorance that she had always been told he had. His stance is proud, certain and confident. Nothing like how he should be. Her eyes narrow under the shield of her helmet.

"Better, but you are showing too much skin for that to be practical," he comments by way of greeting. He does not leer at her. In fact, he looks downright disapproving of her on display like she is. "What is it with those of you from Nihilheim, that you have to waste such precious metal to look so stupid?"

That he had the nerve to accuse her people of waste! She is so utterly insulted that it takes all her training to restrain her from lunging forward and beginning her attack prematurely. Instead, she forces a degrading scoff before she responds.

Insipid little boy.

"You are not one to comment on wasting anything precious, boy."

"I would rather not hurt a woman," he says. He states it so casually that for a second, it seems like he _must_ be bluffing. He couldn't be _that _arrogant.

"I could take exception to the misguided assumption that you could in the first place. Not even on your best day, Prince," she taunts with a haughty laugh.

He lifts his hand and with his fingers in an unhurried movement, motions for her to take her best shot at him. Beckoning her in a taunting fashion that was entirely too cocky for someone who should not know more than the mere basics on the rules of engagement. He knew she was an accomplished fighter. She could tell that he knew. Yet he was still unafraid. Not that she lets all these musings show even the slightest of hesitations as she unleashes an insulted growl and begins her attack anyway. Her advanced speed has her within striking distance in less than a second but it is still not enough to land a blow on him. She is so astonished initially that she stills. He is already leaning away, even as she's begun her full swing then he twists his body back towards her. His right arm follows behind with a flash of lighted movement and he When she tries a subtle retreat to give herself more maneuvering room, he is already right there, already anticipating that she would. She is quickly forced to go on the defensive as he executes a series of complicated and entirely too strategic, movements with his sword and sure footing. He has her exerting far more energy than she was expecting to expend during this battle. As she tries to counter his attacks, it does not take her long to see that his own speed far exceeds her own.

It was inconceivable that she should be bested by the spoiled prince of Nihilsomno! How so very ludicrous! While her moves were carefully studied and rigidly mastered, his looked as if they were instinctive, natural instead of learned. His footing and stance and easy execution are so fluid and quick! Even when she tries to throw him off by using a completely different technique, he acclimates easily and methodically without pause. Easily responding and charging with his own additions. She soon becomes hard pressed to try and keep up with him. As devastating a blow to her pride as it was, she already knows who the victor will be and it is not who she thought it would be. It is such a crushing acceptance and she seethes. In no way, would she let _his_ blade be the one that claims her life.

"You are toying with me," she hisses resentfully.

"As you had planned to toy with me," he replies, not pausing in the slightest as their blades continue to collide. "But I grow stronger yet and you mistake a disguise for what I really am."

He shoves at her with a force against their collided blades and it shames her that she is out of breathe whereas he looks as collected as he had before they began.

"Tell your Wise One, I am coming for him," he declares. "And I am coming for what is mine."

"I will not go back defeated," she vows defiantly, spitting on the ground at his feet in added insult.

"I will not kill you, Dragon Knight," he says cooly.

"You won't," she says confidently.

She throws her sword at him before diving off the edge of the platform, hurtling rapidly towards the gravel below. It is a long way to the bottom which gives her too much time to berate herself for being such a pathetic excuse for a Knight. A failure. She had foolishly underestimated her enemy and will now die in shame instead of facing such humiliation. The gravel of the city streets are quickly coming closer and she closes her eyes in acceptance of this dishonorable death.

Only to feel two strong arms snag around her armored waist before her body is propelled sideways with the motion of an airship.

"No!" she screams in anguish. "Let go! Let me die with some semblance of honor!"

"There will be no more wasted life tonight, Knight," a gravelly voice says in her ear. He does not shout but there was no need when she could hear him so easily over the rush of the air around them. His was the kind of voice one would _always_ hear. They must be harnessed to the side of the airship, since they both dangle in the air, held only by a long wire. "There has been enough already this day."

She turns her face to look at her unwanted savior in the face. This would be the _second_ time in as many minutes that these Nihil men have scolded _her_ regarding waste. Her savior's arms securely held her to him easily, even with the added bulk of her armor to hinder him. His hold was neither lecherous or presumptuous. The small gap between her shirt and her pants did not feel the heat of questing fingers, anxious to cop a feel of her skin. Even the look on his scarred face as he studied her had not a hint of lust within its expression. His eyes held no malice, only a reprimand. As if he disapproved of her attempt at suicide. As if he disapproved of her all together.

"Let me go," she insists, calmer now in spite of herself. She should be closer to hysteria, but she finds that impossible in the face of his stern demeanor. His sternness seems to placate instead of rousing her.

"No," he responds firmly.

"I am not going to actually believe it is because **_I_** would be a waste that you are saving me."

"I'd have been disappointed if it did," he answers, looking at her with a furrowed brow. "You have a true fighter's spirit. Only you've been misguided. Time for you to wake up, Lady Knight."

"Saving me does not endear you to me."

"I assumed as much," he says with an easy chuckle. A chuckle! As if she were a jester in court! "You're more than welcome to give me a good thrashing when Ignis lands this thing," he promises.

"Wh…. why would you let me do that?" she asks. That sounded so preposterous.

"All that bottled aggression and resentment isn't healthy."

"Not healthy?" she sputters indignantly.

"You've anger issues, Lady Knight," he says.

"That still doesn't explain your offer to be my punching bag."

"Whipping Boy."

"Same thing."

"You need it."

"That's it?"

"That it."

She does not understand this man. She does not understand how she got into her current situation with this man. She does not understand why the prince would not kill her either. Most of all she does not understand why she finds her focus more attuned to _this_ man, this forceful brute that is holding her so safely in his large arms. Her confusion dissolves her anger and despite her suspicions of his intentions, she finds her curiosity wants her to stop her struggles and see what they have planned. Surely this was all a ruse to gain her trust and turn her allegiance away from The Cause. That this man made her feel delicate and feminine when she has never felt either of those things in her life. Sexy, a vixen and a witch, yes, but delicate? This is a first.


	10. Aestus

**Prompt**: #31 Passion

**Summary**: Her feelings could only be described as passionate.

**A/N**: This continues a series that was started in the Lacesco Series. The chapters within that are Satira, Termino and Celeritas.

Aestus is Latin for "passionate fire".

_**Aestus**_

"I… am not trying to sound…"

"Stupid?" he offers with a raised brow and entirely too smug a tone. "Trust me, _Princess_. I have already formed an unchangeable opinion of you."

_Figures_, she mentally chides herself. She is not, will not, will absolutely _not_ rise to that bait.

"I do not remember venturing this far out before," she manages to get out in a somewhat civil voice.

"That would be because we didn't," he answers, like that was a given this whole time.

So much for wanting to be tactful.

So, instead of asking what they both know she wanted to know next, she merely looks at him pointedly and waits for him to answer. For she was also, not about to listen to yet another snide comment without doing him real physical harm. Her stress levels were too greatly strained to have anymore patience with him at present. It takes her longer now, for the inclination to soften. It takes her another to find a less volatile solution. Perhaps she could avoid violence by simply flattening one of his more prominent spikes. That might be enough retribution. The mental image is very tempting.

"It would appear that you are enjoying this time spent with me," he notes. His gaze is flickering over the smirk that, no doubt, must be on her face as she pictures taking such decisive action. She does not, for _one_ moment, even entertain the notion that he actually believes her smirk is from the enjoyment of his company. It does not mean, however, that she was not going to take advantage of the opening he provides her.

"But of course!" she fairly shrieks, deliberately mimicking the sickly sweet tone that she has heard many ladies use when speaking to him. "I so enjoy spending my holidays trapped in abominable accommodations and verbally sparring with the most infuriatingly rude man, who claims he is a prince! With such lovely activities such as being attacked for nefarious motives and taking an agonizing stroll through a treacherous wilderness, all while being eaten alive by the local insect life."

"You need to get out more," he comments dryly. He is not in the least bit put off by her extremely sarcastic insult to his hosting abilities. If anything, he looks on the verge of smirking... again.

"How much further do we need to go?" she demands without pretense or decorum.

"You, truly, are not having a smashing good time in my company?"

Oh no. No, she was not going to fall for that deceptively crushed tone either. The admirable attempt of the look of absolute desolation would grant him an acting award for sure. Too bad he was as genuine as any liar in this moment. The gall of the cad.

"I am enjoying this as much as you are," she manages to calmly reply. Her eyes glitter in challenge and makes it clear that she will not be wilted by his feigned wound.

"Doubtful," he snorts and continues his onward path to who knows where.

That sounded about as forth right as she had ever heard from him. She should take offense to his blunt statement, but is glad that it is at least an honest one. No, she is relieved beyond measure. For it was far more preferable that he be forthcoming instead of counterfeit. She is not sure how it came to be, but she could always tell when he was being sincere and when he was simply being difficult and mocking for the sake of being such. Not that she had the foggiest what he _really_ meant by most his statements, but at least she could always tell whether he was in earnest or whether he was merely trying to jerk her chain. The latter being his favorite past time. The man surely must be a sadist to be so condescending and maddening. It was also the latter that she was comfortable with, no matter that she was almost always skirting the edge of losing her temper. When it was the former, she had no idea what to make of him. To take him seriously would be dangerous, she muses. Dangerous in all ways except the physical. For she knew, despite his propensity to get a thrill from getting a rise out of her, that he would never intentionally harm her physically. She found she liked disliking him. To dislike him was safe. Anything favorable would be dangerous. To think of him in any favorable sort of way was absolutely restricted. It was something she refused to allow her mind to ponder, let alone acknowledge. For, if she found she actually liked him...

"Where did it go?" he asks, a little closer than he had been before. Not too close to as to invade her personal space, but he is close to it.

His query brings her back to their present situation, which she has tried most fervently not to dwell on, was that they were alone. She was all alone with this man that was so multi dimensional that she always felt downright _common_ in comparison. He made her feel as if she were in over her head with him. That she was too simple to understand him.

"Where did what go?" she asks, frowning at his handsome face. The same one that often seemed to beg her to slap it. Somehow she does not think that is what they meant by attraction.

"That fire of passion that is usually in your strange eyes," he answers matter of factly. He says it so naturally, so factually. As if he knew her. As if they were on an intimate acquaintance.

Which was highly inappropriate and grossly inaccurate!

The very insinuation, uttered in that, in that bored and unaffected sort of way makes her cheeks flush with outraged anger. As if he had _any_ right to call _her_ eyes strange! When his, at times, turned an almost indecent red!

"Though that is absolutely _none_ of your concern," she snaps, blowing angrily at a strand of hair that happened to fall across her eyes. "If you must know, I am always _nothing_ if not passionate."

"Really?" he challenges. Challenges with a sharply raised eyebrow that never fails to aggravate her.

"I feel _very_ passionate about you," she answers, using his own flat tone.

"How passionate, _Princess_?" he asks, in an attempt to call her bluff.

"In a _fiery_, _flaming_, _heated_ passionate way," she says breathlessly, making sure to take a step closer to him as she does. She inches closer until their bodies are almost touching. "An almost all consuming flame of passion."

He lowers his head to peer down at her. "Uncontrollably?"

"Very," she agrees, tilting her head up towards him. "It holds me utterly captive."

"And will you yield to it?" he asks in a heated whisper. The warmth of his breathe breezes across her lips as he speaks.

"Do you think you could handle it?" she asks.

"Only if you can handle mine," he replies as they both lean in ever closer to each other.

"I am always up for a challenge."

"Good," he says approvingly. "Because we are about to be attacked and are terribly out numbered."

She jerks her head away to whirl around to face this oncoming enemy. Her rune is already flashing to life in golden rivulets as she scans the area around them.

"If we hurry, we can lose them through that foliage there," he advises, pointing to a thick patch before them.

"At least the adrenaline is kicking in," she shrugs, surprised at how disappointed she feels to be running from another confrontation when she feels so suddenly exhilarated. At the moment, she was fairly itching for a fight.

"Off we go," he says, ushering her with a shooing motion of his hands.

She takes three steps in the direction he indicates before he stops her with his next words.

"You will not become a tease, will you, _Princess_?" he baits.

"Of course not," she says, turning her face to give him a sultry smile. "I never fail to display how passionately I despise you, _Prince_ Noctis."

He returns her smile with his trademark smirk with knowing eyes. As if he had known all along what she had really meant with her titillating words a moment before. It is the first time she allows herself to acknowledge how in tune they both were to each other. So accurately attuned to each other that it was frightening when they disliked each other so much.

"Before you try for a dramatic exit, may I remind you that you have no idea where you are going and it is _I_ who needs to be in the lead?"

"Then you will have to explain to me why you are wasting time doddling in the first place," she retorts.

He lets out a sound of amusement and shakes his head.

"I like you too, Princess," he says, brushing past her and pushing his way through the heavy vines.

Trust him to always have a snappy one liner to part with.

With a roll of her eyes, she hurries after him into the thick bush.


	11. Praefoco

I forgot to mention **SpringFlake **in the last prompt. It was her request that got that prompt fulfilled. Thank you! 3

**Prompt: **#15 Choke

**Summary: **Guy talk.

**A/N: **Could be considered a companion to the Psychic, Strong, Wrong Prompts.

Praefoco is Latin for, "to choke".

_**Praefoco**_

Sometimes, it really sucks being the "go to" guy within the group. Not only was he the strategist, he was also the driver, the mechanic, the tech, the... etc etc. Not that he minded it most of the time because it kept him busy and he liked being productive. He liked always having the answer. Or, if he didn't know the answer _already_, he made sure he found the right one. There was nothing like it to give him that level of satisfaction. Other times, this left him feeling a little, awkward. It took him awhile to figure out that there were some things that just, couldn't be answered with complete accuracy. Everyone had their limitations and he knew his right away. It was just that, nobody else seemed to think so and still came to him.

"So, I met someone last night."

The statement was not exactly an unwelcome one considering, but it was also not a subject he was proficient with. It was the very thing he was most ineffective with. So, he can tell immediately that he was not going to be very helpful, but darn if he was going to at least try. The emotion factor was just _not_ his forte. It's also the little twang of doubt in his Lord's voice that has him pausing in mid twist to look up at Noct's face. He blinks at him a moment from behind the lenses of his glasses to witness the feigned calm on his friend's face and he knows. He knows he's definitely not well equipped for this.

"Yeah?" he asks, the sharp whizzing sound picks up again as he renews his efforts with the socket wrench once more.

"At the party last night," Noct says by way of explanation.

Yeah. This was going to be _way_ out of his league of knowledge. He lets Noct have another moment to gather his thoughts while carefully keeping his eyes focused on the turning wrench in his hands instead of Noct. Neither one of them was the "beat around the bush" sort but romance and junk was something the both of them dreaded talking about. He'd much rather get it over with but the inadequate feeling draws out the silence.

"Is she from around here?" he asks, keeping his voice levelly distracted, as he continues tinkering with the engine of Noct's Ducati. It brings some grim build up around one of the valves to his attention so he takes advantage of the opportunity to keep his eyes off of Noct a little longer.

"She is from Tenebrae," is the monotonous reply.

Noct didn't do monotonous very well. Which means this was serious. Which means that he was going to have to go out of his comfort zone.

He takes this opportunity to look up finally, while he continues the motion of wiping off the excess residue build up in front of him.

"You mean the _Princess_ of Tenebrae?"

"Yeah."

"You don't exactly look ecstatic," he observes, as no doubt, Noct has expected him to. "Was she ugly and it was all actually a set up last night?"

"No."

"So she's totally gorgeous."

"She is...striking," Noct describes, but there are way more adjectives floating around in his head. Striking was obviously the less descriptive.

This was news. This was _huge_ news. It wasn't every day that Noct met a girl that warranted a mention the next day. So he had two options. He could say the whole point of the function last night had been about properly hosting foreign relations in an effort for peace. Or, he could play the knowledgeable friend instead of the clueless idiot.

Knowledgeable friend, of course, won out. Cause that's just who he was.

"Meeting someone isn't a bad thing," he says casually. Which is true. Noct was young, but not that young. One day, and one day soon, he would have to think about getting married.

"The timing is."

"Would she be worth it?" he asks. Her being worth it would definitely give him the proper read of Noct's feelings for this princess. So he watches him carefully as Noct slowly blinks while his mind wraps around what he's really asking him.

"It was only brief."

"Long enough to get a mention," he points out.

"True," concedes Noct. He looks hesitant and unsure, but he knows enough about his prince to know that the hesitation is not about his feelings. Noct's worried about how _much_ he feels and if he can handle it.

"I hope you're not coming to me for dating advice."

"You mean you are not up for girl time chat?" mocks Noct and it's good to hear the sarcasm in his voice again.

For a second, he was really getting nervous about the mental condition of his Prince.

"Not since the last time I verified I was a male," he retorts just as dryly. He straightens to his full height from being crouched beside the Ducati to peer at Noct through the frames of his glasses, taking care to wipe his hands slowly with the rag in his hands as he does. "What is it about her, Noct?"

"She is beautiful."

"I'm sure she is, but there are plenty of beautiful women around you all the time."

She _had _to be something more.

"She is also different," Noct says as he tries to find the right words. "Different in a profound way."

"You're not exactly typical yourself. So she's different in _your_ way. That's a plus if you ask me."

"It is," agrees Noct, looking relieved now and then he gets that apprehensive look again.

"Both your kingdoms are being attacked by the same bad guys," he adds. "It's politically advantageous and wouldn't increase conflict. It'd only solidify relations. Good stuff all around."

"Also true," agrees Noct.

"But you've already thought of all of that. I'm not saying anything that you didn't think of already."

He was willing to wager Noct hadn't slept the night before from thinking of all these things. As much as they teased him for always making charts and making lists, Noct did them mentally just as much as he did.

"I was hoping that you would be able to get some intel."

"Intel? Or input?" he asks, just to clarify.

"Your perception is keener than any of ours," Noct explains.

In most cases, he'd have to agree that he was. In these kinds of things? While he wasn't exactly the _worst_ or the most clueless, he didn't think he'd be the best. Glad was pretty perceptive too, but he understands why Noct has asked him to do this instead. Subtle wasn't exactly Glad's style when he was moved to do something and neither was it Pro's inclination either. Plus, he did have a knack for putting everything into a computable sequence to foresee any given outcome. Still, the emotion factor was always the thorn in his side. No one could accurately predict just how a person would exactly react. Especially when it came to the female psyche. No other indecipherable being ever existed like the feminine sex. They were under the column of, "Better left alone".

"What kinds of things should I be looking for?" he asks after a moment. He's still not able to really determine what Noct's getting at.

"Nothing invasive," Noct says. "That would be tactless."

...and would probably _not_ endear the princess to him either, he mentally added.

"Okay, so... what is it that you want me to do?" he asks for clarification's sake. All he can tell is that this really isn't what Noct really wanted to ask of him.

The hesitation on Noct's face is another indicator that not was what it seemed and that made him a tad more nervous.

"I am at a complete loss."

That made both of them, but the frustration evident in his Lord made him feel antsy to do something to help.

"What is it, really, that's bothering you? We can start with that," he encourages kindly. "You know whatever it is, I'll handle it for you." He would too. They both knew that.

"It is something even you cannot answer at present, I am afraid."

"Shouldn't be hard to figure out a way around whatever the obstacle is. Just tell me what you need me to find out and I'll try. We can always try."

Noct takes another moment to deal with his hesitation while he waits in growing anxiety. "It is... whether she was as taken with me as I was with her," Noct says finally. From the expression on his face, he knows just how juvenile the entire thing is without even saying. It explained a lot though, about why Noct was being so evasive about giving him a straight request.

"She didn't seem interested when you were talking last night?"

"I... cannot be sure."

He doesn't ask why that is, but he's afraid to ask, cause he has a strong feeling about why that is. He is not about to embarrass Noct further by actually asking for the answer out loud though. Noct seemed intent on beating himself up before even saying and his asking wouldn't be helpful of him, neither was it prudent to try and alleviate Noct's uncertainty.

"I totally choked last night," Noct confesses at last. "And had not the presence of mind to see any signs of interest on her part."

Yeah. This was huge. This princess was going to be _very_ special. _That _he can easily foresee. Causing a guy like Noct to totally choke meant trouble for the whole lot of them.


	12. Inflecto

**Prompt**: #17 Change

**Summary**: What could warp and change what was so refined?

**A/N:** Opening to another series within Sentio Omnium.

Inflecto is Latin for, "to warp; change; sway; effect".

_**Inflecto**_

A lone kingdom. One that had once been at the pinnacle of its greatness. One who had once looked so promising, with its boundless horizons of discovery and progress. It had fallen. Fallen, not by the domination of another conquering nation or power. For it could not be conquered when it was so powerful itself. The fall had been into a devastating despair of gloom. The kingdom, which held such timeless and unfathomable resources to give, was closed off. Within the height of it's progression to grandness, when it's potential had nearly been reached, it had taken a turn of spiraling descent. The great King had succumbed to the enemy of death and in his place should have stood his son, the heir to the throne. The young prince, who had appeared to be as just and as good as his father, especially after the heroic acts of he and his friends in the violent aftermath of his father's death, had vanished into obscurity.

Grief, they say, was what had chased the regal prince away. Others blamed the nameless source that knew no name and knew no face. That latter theory seemed the most accurate. For now, the Kingdom, with it's magnificent capital of endless possibilities had closed itself off from the rest of the world. The land had become tinted with the blackness of gloom, unwelcoming to those that did not belong. It's citizens became secretive and withdrawn, keeping only to themselves. In fact, when migration had been increasing, all native Nihil had suddenly returned to their homeland. Nobody from the outside was permitted to enter the kingdom's borders and those allowed to leave, were not welcomed back. There was never any way of knowing whether the people had even wanted to escape the confines of their kingdom. The only sign that the inhabitants were alive and alert were the warnings any passing airships received if they dared come too close to the borders of the realm.

One would think that such an extreme would call forth a revolt of it's people. Man was a species that did not appreciate being confined. Yet, there were no revolts. The people seemed not to mind being so secluded. No protest to being closed off from the outside. For the most part, the majority of the land within the realm were desolated. The focal point of all activity was within the capital, where nearly the entire population resided. No other city could match the gothic opulence of Nihilsomno. It did not match the barren wasteland that surrounded it's city limits at all. One would think the entire Kingdom was just as deserted. Perhaps, that was the point entirely. To fool those not within, that this land was a no man's land.

The surrounding kingdoms knew better than to believe this would be so. They speculated, but none could understand the ban of commercial trade as well. Importing and exporting were the breathe and life of any prosperous nation and yet, Nihil had closed that avenue entirely. It naturally, made everyone nervous. For it was illogical, irrational and irresponsible to do such a drastic thing unless the intentions of the Nihil were nefarious. How was it possible that the entire nation subsisted on only what could be acquired on their barren lands? It made those of the outside nations more than a little wary.

Attempts at reaching the Prince, went frustrated. He who had never celebrated a coronation to be crowned King seemed also, illogical. Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum had been many things, but he had never been such a recluse. Each endeavor to reach out was met with a quick rebuttal. So envoys had been sent instead, only to be turned away upon arrival. No one ever saw the prince. No one was ever granted an audience with him either. The only person they had ever managed to interact with, had been the mysterious, helmeted warrior. That was what they called him at least. No one knew his name. No one knew what he looked like. He spoke briefly, tersely, succinctly and to the point. His voice rattled with a hoarse, gravelly sound. Like a serpent hisses in a hushed, sinister tone. It gave no distinction to even how old he was either. Lethal and dark, the man was an enigma. A prominent player that no one had known was even in the game. He seemed to come from no where and all any visiting emissary could say about him, was that he struck a very imposing figure. This helmeted man was not one to be crossed. Though no eyes could be seen behind the black tint of his helmet, one could still feel the malice in his stare.

It became a popular theory that this intimidating, helmeted man in black was secretly keeping Noctis prisoner. He, perhaps, had even _killed_ the prince and overtaken the monarchy. There seemed no one that stood in his way, not even the faithful three companions of the prince. The three, who had also gone missing. Perhaps, all four of those young men were dead under the hand of the black figure. Nothing about the situation made any sense. Those who knew, had never left the city to tell. Many wondered what diabolical scheme this faceless adversary had concocted by doing away with Noctis. They could no nothing else but wait anxiously for the threat to emerge. If this man has indeed gained rulership of the kingdom, there was no telling the amount of destruction he could unleash. Yet strangely, when he did make an appearance, he always claimed to represent the Prince and the wishes of the Prince, not his own. Nothing about this unknown man made sense.

When five years had passed and the city had remained elusive to the outside world, many fears slowly began to abate. Yet, through these cold, silent and distant years, there has only been one person with the will and courage to secretly try and breech Nihilsomno's formidable walls. It has taken her two years of waiting and then three years of research to find her way inside. The discovery, which had happened quite accidentally, revealed a way to gain entrance into the city. So, on the eve of the fifth anniversary since the conclusion of their great battle together and the anniversary of the day Nihil isolated itself, she takes the risk and enters the city alone.

The rest of the world can remain content to ignore what is really happening here, but she would not be content to do the same. She would be lying if she said it was for political reasons that she was so determined to conduct this dangerous scheme. For it had nothing at all to do with her kingdom or her people. It had _everything_ to do with her feelings towards Noctis. They had not been officially labeled as lovers, but they _had_ been lovers. Almost lovers on the verge of consummating their relationship when everything had changed. When _he _had changed and closed up his borders as surely as he had closed up his heart from her. Any other woman would have accepted such a rejection and moved on. Only, she was not that type of woman and their relationship was not the type to merely be brushed away. Noctis would _never_ have hidden away from her. He would _never_ have cut her off like that. Something had happened to him and if she had to slay this mysterious helmeted villain to find the answers, she would. People and circumstances changed, but she could never change what they had, had together.

That, was why she had come.


	13. Insani

**Prompt: **#37 Paranoid

**Summary: **She was never going to let her guard down around them.

**A/N:** This series shall be deemed, "The Dragon Knight" series. It so far consists of the Psychic, Strong, Wrong and Choke prompts.

Insani is Latin for, "The Paranoid".

_**Insani**_

Any moment now, she was absolutely certain, they would come barging through that door and arrest her. Surely they would haul her down to the dungeon to await her execution. She was part of an assassination attempt against their precious Prince afterall. It seemed a foregone conclusion that they would forgo a trial and take her straight to her death. What else would they do with her? That is exactly what _she _would have done if she were in their position. She wasn't going to fall for the whole, "You're a waste so we'll keep her alive," bull that they had fed her since her unwanted and unasked for, rescue. Maybe that was something that would help them gloat over their successful deceit. There was nobody that noble nowadays and she was to believe the entire group held that same belief? Did they think that she would become desperate and try to please them instead of those of her own kind? HA!

Although, it was true that they hadn't interrogated her yet. But they should have. They should have tried to torture information out of her. Which would have made more sense. It would have been in their best interest to at least try. From their point of view, if it had been her mission to slay the heir to the throne, it would be logical to conclude that she would be have access to some sensitive intel regarding their opposition. Maybe they were simply stupid. They hadn't even gotten around to questioning her. They couldn't be so clever and then so stupid, could they? She didn't know what to think in this bizarre twist that fate that she was suffering through. Not that they were particularly nice to her. There wasn't any outright hostility towards her from any of them. Which, there _should_ have been. All she could say to describe how they treated her thus far was a cautious weariness. Nothing at all resembling hateful and suspicious. There's nothing for her to believe, but that they really wanted to test her loyalty by turning her into a spy. As if they displaying kindness, she'd been easily swayed. If so, they would be sorely disappointed. As if she would _ever_ betray The Wise One and the Cause!

With nothing else to occupy herself with (there was only so much snooping around one could do when confined in this neither decadent nor sparse room they had brought her to earlier), she thinks back to the interactions she had, had with them earlier. Well just, the conversation with the scarred one.

The scarred one. That lousy brute! Her unwanted savior, snatching her from the grips of a shameful attempt at taking her life. She cringes just thinking about it and a fresh bout of resentment flows through her. He had settled her onto her feet when the airship had touched down onto a landing pad on top of an especially tall high rise.

"Give it your best shot, Knight," he had said gruffly.

After taking two uneasy steps away from him with wary caution, she stands to notice that his stance is almost relaxed as he watched her. His eyes were not challenging nor were they mocking her. They had merely looked patient, as he waited for her first move.

"Will you not even try to block my blow?" she had asked skeptically. She was _not_ going to beat a man who felt so sorry for her, he'd put up no fight. She wouldn't, couldn't stomach pity. He could shove pity up his tight arse!

"I figure you need to get a good hit in to help release some of that tension," he had replied, still keeping his pose loose as they continue to face each other. He wasn't exactly aloof, but ready. "Let's see how good you are bare knuckled."

"I'd rather hack you in two with my long sword," she had pronounced with a sneer.

"Which you threw at Noct before doing that swan dive towards the pavement."

"True, but it would make my one blow worth my while," she had answered. As proficient as she was, she knew she could not fell him with just one blow of her hands.

"Blood thirsty Amazon," he had commented, though not unkindly. If anything it had looked more like admiration than disgust. "But it is always wise to be prepared to fight, even without a weapon nearby."

"So is this really some sort of training session?" she had scoffed, adding in a sniff for emphasis.

"I've already seen you move, Amazon."

Yes. He had _seen_ her defeat and humiliation. She hadn't been able to stop from gaping in mortification at the reminder. Throw _that_ in her face like that!

"We didn't think that," he had responded to, what must have been the look on her face in that moment. "I was actually pretty impressed."

"Because I am a woman?" she had snapped spitefully.

"I think it was _because _you are a woman that you can move that fast with so much unneeded bulk around you. Gave Noct more of a challenge then your clinking grunts."

Cheeky bastard at the nerve to wink a her.

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" she spat nastily.

He'd merely cocked his head to the side to stare at her in assessment instead of responding. She would have rather he had insulted her back. It angered her more that he had remained so calm when she felt so crazy. His look had made her feel like some sort of puzzle that he wasn't sure if he wanted to bother solving or not. Which only served to piss her off that much more.

"I am _not _some convert to conform to _your _heathen ways."

"They teach you to think up those fancy names where you're from?" he had asked about. Instead of addressing her insult. Couldn't he have retaliated and given her something to feed off of? He had just given her that befuddled look again that would have been funny if he had actually been stupid. "Fiery, like the dragon knight you clearly are."

"You should have just let me die."

"Maybe things like, an honorable suicide or other piles of manure, hold some weight where you're from. But around here, taking your own life because you failed _once_ seems like a cop out."

"Cop out?" she had indignantly screeched. "This was my destiny! I trained my whole life and I failed! I'm nothing but a failure! Do you have _any_ idea what that makes me feel like?"

"Ever heard of picking yourself back up and trying again?" he's suggested with honest puzzlement.

She had been too flabbergasted by that easy rebuke and genuine confusion, that she hadn't been able to respond. Which he had taken advantage of by continuing.

"Seems a definite waste if you could throw away all those years of intense training just cause you lost one fight."

"Were you even listening to me, you blocked headed oaf!"

"Not much else I can do to _not _hear you, Knight," he'd said sardonically. He gave her an amused grin, which had completely unnerved her. "But you, apparently, haven't heard how whacked out _you _sound."

Mocking her convictions! Degrading her beliefs! She'd been so enraged she'd swung back and clocked the no good prat as hard as her rage granted her. The resulting crunch as her knuckle had connected with his cheek had been satisfying for about two seconds. His head swinging back from her blow making it even more so. Then had followed the excruciating pain that shot up her arm as a result. She had only just managed not to break her thumb against his face and she knew her knuckles would be sore.

The behemoth cracked his neck and realigned his jaw before giving her an approving grin.

"Feel better?" he had asked.

"You... you provoked me on purpose?" she had gawked in disbelief. Had the man no sense of self preservation? Talk about the pot calling the kettle black!

Which was confirmed when he merely shrugged his thick shoulder in answer.

"You're insane!"

"And you're one paranoid dame," he'd shot back at her.

"You're trying to get on my good side. So of course I'm going to conclude you have evil intentions."

"Too bad the room you'll be sleeping in doesn't have that good of a lock."

"What?"

Where he thought that little tidbit fit into their conversation made her question whether he really _was_ stupid.

"Cause you never know what could sneak in while you're unawares," was the reply.

"Then it should be easy for me to escape," she had tried to sound confident, but he had gotten a disarming look on his face just then.

"I could just be trying to get you to keep you all riled up so that eventually you'll tire yourself out and _then_ I could make my real intentions known."

That last sentence keeps her on her feet and pacing within the small room all that first night. The mischievous grin still makes her spine stiffen, even so many hours later. She would show that... that _idiot_ that she could be vigilant at all times!


	14. Articulus

**Prompt: **#38 Moment

**Summary: **It was then, just then, that he knew.

**A/N**: Could be considered a standalone.

Articulus is Latin for, "(of time) moment, crisis".

_**Articulus**_

"It was a period where I was not certain of what was truth nor which of my feelings were true. The amount of varying types of emotions that had coursed through me at the time had my head on a completely different plain. Simply put, I was a mess. I had been almost on the brink of insanity. So much confusion and stress had my psyche completely on edge. The threats of danger had been intense. The confrontations had been fierce. The power and pleasure were never so potent. In times of peace, it was often more difficult to ascertain a person's true nature. Add chaos into the mix and the real character reveals itself with ugly clarity. It was the sheer amount of ugliness that had been exposed at that time had been exponential. Even to me, to someone who had always been the sort who kept to himself and had always been naturally distrustful, there had been moments where even_ I_ had been thrown for a loop. The amount of deceit and betrayal was staggering. To see so many of my Father's inner circle turn out to be corrupt was nauseating. All those men that had been trusted by my father and had never been loyal. The corruption was so deeply engrained within the system that I was overcome. Towards the middle of it all, I was ready to destroy everything instead of saving it. I had wanted to slay them all. Slay them without mercy and full of prejudice.

My perception of what was right and what was wrong felt distorted. For there was too much wrong that it had felt that, that was what was truly right. My feelings became rampant, breathing things that I had no control over and therefore could not trust even my own self. There did not seem to be a reason for me to restrain myself. My father was dead. The bubble of my existence was popped. It had never bothered me that I had never planned a future for myself. So much of my life had been planned for me and as much as I had resented that, I had done little to take charge of my own destiny. The boy I had been, had, had no idea how to be a man of his own. That boy had never been taught how and his only example had been taken from him. It left me feeling exposed, vulnerable, leaving me to accept that which I had sneered at before. That I really _was_ a sheltered, self centered prince. That feeling of inner panic and eager triumph of freedom, had made me feeling very, _very_ angry.

The killing seemed endless after a short while. When one foe was vanquished, another quickly took its place. There was so much blood spilt during that tumultuous period. Sometimes when I look at my hands, I can fancy that can still see it staining my palms and fingers. Even though the battles and casualties had been necessary, there was no taking away from that feeling that this was all in vain. That it was all vanity. What was _not_ in vain were my companions, however. My faithful friends, that are always there to stand by my side and have my back. They had been my foundation and the only things stable in a world that was crumbling around me. It was them... and then her.

Like any young bloke, some things came quickly but most things not so quickly. Things like anger, frustration, hate, were things easy to display. Since, those emotions are relatively simple. Perhaps, it is because they shield what we all try to hide from others that makes them more readily accessible. Pain, hurt and fear are feelings not so easily to expose in oneself. Especially for someone who was trying to prove that he was brave. It is most likely the reason why love is such a difficult thing for us, as men, to declare. The confession of such an all consuming emotion was all that we try so hard not to show. Love was terrifying. Love was painful. Love hurt you in ways that we do not recover from. The mind can be convinced to forget, but the heart does not. It is not an easy or simple thing to love. It is the most complicated emotion of all. So it should not be a shock that I had tried my hardest _not_ to acknowledge what it was that I felt for her for a long time.

Yet, it was within that one moment. That one remarkable, breathless moment that it had hit me point blankly in the face. I had never seen anything more beautiful nor anything so brilliant. Even knowing how things could turn out and knowing that I would likely defeat her, she had faced me. She had stood before me with all the regal beauty and grace that my life had always lacked, until she had come into it. With her rune flashing gold against my laser blue and her rapier drawn with a smooth glide of her soft hand, I knew it. I knew that I loved the woman who stood before me with such righteous anger and I have never seen anything so stunning. I had never seen anything more heart wrenching than the challenge she had issued by doing so. From that moment on, I have loved no other and I care not to ever try again.

The immense impact of those intense emotions altered a person. They certainly altered me, for the better."

"You tell that story so well, Papa," sighs the not so young anymore Princess in response.

"It is more than a bedtime story, sweet heart," I say. "Does he love you like I love your mother?"

"Nobody can love like you, Father."

"He will have to," I say in reprimand.

"He claims to, but that is why I seek your thoughts on the matter," she says, looking at me with a look that never fails to melt my resolve. I needed that resolve because I really wanted to hate this, this _boy_ that seeks her hand. "Only you would be able to tell for sure."

"That I would," I concede grumpily. "Now show the young scoundrel in so I can see for myself."


	15. Fragilis

**Prompt: **#21 Fragile

**Summary: **The balance between.

**A/N: **This continues the, "Distortion Series". The beginning of which is the Change prompt.

Fragilis is Latin for, "easily broken, fragile".

_**Fragilis**_

The bustling streets that she had always remembered to be crowded with hordes of people, seem desolate to her now in comparison. It made it look so very different, missing this key detail. These streets were made for masses of people to walk, which this amount of people fell desperately short of. There are few people who are walking the streets as she is and it seems unnatural given the time of evening. When she had been here last, it had seemed as if the later the hour that was reached, the more the amount of people increased along with it. Though, it could be said that perhaps it was just too early for that at present, she does not think the time is the reason for it being this so. The when did not matter. There had always been many walking about, no matter the time. The sidewalks did not look completely deserted by any means, but it was no where near as busy as such a booming metropolis should have been.

None of the many shops that lined the streets were open. Not for the excuse of the spaces being vacant but that the shops were simply closed for the night. Again, this was too early to close up shop. Too early for a city that loved the night and those that _were_ walking the streets, look as if they were in a hurry to be wherever they needed to be. No imposing curfews had been enforced that she had heard of. If anything, Nihilsomno was a city that thrived one the sun had set. Things can change, but things like _that_, did not. No matter how much time had passed. Noctis, himself, was a creature of the night. It did not make sense that the streets be so barren. It was too early for sleep. Especially, in a city that did not like to sleep. Noctis had told her it was because slumber brought dreams and he never had anything else but nightmares.

As inconspicuously as possible, she takes a few furtive glances around her to observe the body language of the other pedestrians. Though they all seem in a rush, they lacked any fear stricken terror in their strides. Rather, it looked more like an eager sense of anticipation that had them quickening their steps to reach their destinations. This was more the look of someone anxious because they were late to an engagement that they were looking _forward_ to than dreading. It does not take her long to assess that everyone was also heading in the same direction. There is an energy in the air around her as she moves along with them at a brisk pace. It feels like a mix of crackling static electricity and chaos, filled in with the sense of urgency. Something was happening. Everyone was rushing to pay witness, like an eager spectator would and she feared it was for nothing good. People always had a morbid sense of curiosity to rush over and witness something horrible. _That_ thought has her quickening her own steps.

There is no mistaking where they are going as a hollow sound grows louder and louder as she reaches the very epicenter of Nihilsomno. The muffled sounds of the roaring cheers of a massive crowd. These were not the sounds of happy, celebratory applause. The atmosphere was... too uproarious to be that. She had never thought to notice the differences between a crowd in merriment and a mob in rancorous cheer, but she can tell them now. It is the sound of disdainful encouragement that roused passion to a peak, to unleash an insatiable lust for violence. A lust, for blood.

Her feet are moving forward much more quickly now as she reaches the source of so much noise. She might have been more articulate in her thoughts if she had, had more time to process all that she is feeling as she finds herself running now. At this moment, she can only feel shock as she reaches the Arena doors. What once was a simple sports arena where games were played, had turned into something deadly and foul. It looks to have been converted into something more debased than an athletic sport. A vicious roar of a large creature shakes the rounds and the jeering cheers reach a new level. Could these modern, civilized people, have truly reverted back to medieval blood sports for mere entertainment? A swell of disgust and remorse rush through her at such a hypothesis.

_Noctis. Noctis, what is going on?_

Somehow she knows. She knows that he is close. She knows that he is also within these walls. She knows because she can feel him. She can already feel his presence. His presence which had often radiated a powerful charge of awareness inside her and time had not diminished how potent that power was. The hairs on the back of her neck and on her arms stand to attention, causing her body to shiver. Yes, he was very, very close by. Her amethyst eyes look towards the entrance and notice no guards standing to check for tickets. So, these events being carried out inside were open to all citizens and most likely even, encouraged. From the rush of late comers, it was something to be excited for and her blood feels cold. Now only were they eager to attend, it was _fun _to them?

From experience, despite the visible lack of security, she still makes sure to check for any surveillance that she need be aware of, before breaching the perimeter. Firstly, making sure that her hair was still safely tucked under the brown wig she dons, she inhales a steady breathe to brace herself. Then, she goes inside.

Eerily, upon entering the double doors to enter the massive coliseum, it is not the roaring cheer of the masses that she hears most prominently. The shouts sound distant, as a whispering voice hisses in her ears. It's sounds so piercing to where all other noises are cancelled out.

_You will never be as good. You shall never be King._

_Fancy's fool is all you are._

_You are mine._

_That is all you shall ever is the most you can ever hope to be._

Such strange words. Of which do not match what is going on around her. These hushed remarks spoken in such a snide tone, saying things that seem displaced. It did not fit. They also seem to be words meant specifically for one particular person and not for all in attendance. Yet its effect was profound. It seemed to tip the fragile balance in the aura that she has felt since entering the city. There was a tension here that she did not associate with the suspense of who will win the ongoing round of righting. These words were not sane. Much like this city seemed no longer so either. They say brilliance was but a touch shy of insanity and from looking at the people she can see as she steps into the open arena, it appears they have surpassed that breach. They are mindless, lost within the madness of the moment. They all seem deaf to the words that she can hear so clearly. All of them heedless to everything except for the thirst of blood to be spilled upon the sands of the battleground below them.

_Impotent imposter! Cheapened vein in a once opulent line of Kings._

_You are too weak. You are too fragile. You are too useless._

She wonders who speaks such words and who they are meant for, as she her feet take her to the very edge of the railing to watch the mindless slaughter. Clearly they were not meant for her. Her eyes scan the spectacle. Blood spatters the sands in varying shades. Three opponents are currently bent on slaughtering each other and she feels sick by the deviousness of it all. When her heart beat grows rapid, she knows her body knows what her eyes have not seen yet. Looking across the expanse of sand, they catch the silhouette of a seated figure upon a large black throne and her heart stops. Though all its frame is lost in shadow, with only the tips of tapping, slim, pale fingers exposed, she knows that frame. She would know it no matter how obscured it may be.

"Noctis," she says in a breathy whisper.

Those tapping fingers stiffen and close into fists at her hushed utterance. Impossible that he could have heard her over this noise, but he must. A loud snapping of fingers echoes through the high arched ceiling then. It signals silence and even the clashing and smashing of blade against hardened flesh is gone. All sound is cut off so abruptly that it feels like someone has silenced all sound all together.

The darkened figure stands and steps forward but the light still does not touch above its waist.

"Who are you?" a demanding voice blasts through the building, sending chills through her skin.

All eyes turn to stare at her as one. As if they _all _know that she did not belong.

"A peaceful sojourner," she replies with as strong a voice as she can manage.

"No sojourners, peaceful or otherwise, are welcome here!" the voice shouts angrily.

It sounds like Noctis' own voice. She would recognize it against all other voices. Yet, it is also distorted and unfamiliar as well. The sound of it was altered by the hostility in his tone. She had never known Noctis to be so openly hostile like this. He was always too cunning to.

"Seize it and bring it to me!" he orders, before stepping fully into the shadows once more.

_It? That, was all she was reduced to? Not a person, but an it?_

Those ominous words leave her expecting the silent crowd to immediately surround her and seize hold of her to do Noctis' bidding. That _had_ to have been Noctis. Despite the changes to his voice, that had been _his_ voice that had spoken those words. When she turns towards those closest to her, she does so with complete acceptance, that many hands will lay hold of her like an angry mob. She turns up short when none of them move. They gaze at her as if merely a collective of one symbiotic entity. None do more than blink as they stare at her with no expressions on their faces, angry or otherwise. They merely seem to be waiting as she is.

The tense silence is broken with the shattering sounds of bursting crystals. The sea of expressionless faces part. It is finally then, that she is faced with the infamous helmeted figure she had heard so much about.

With a sleek, gilding helmet that shined as bright as black onyx and a full bodied biker suit, he gave off powerful energy. One that only those like her would fully appreciate. The sounds of rubbing leather and rubber are only marginally covered by the rasping sounds of his breathes as he makes his way steadily and menacingly towards her. He is not hurried in his movements, but he is terse and brisk. Just like she had heard he was.

When that helmeted face is directly in front of her own, she tries to peer through the almost porcelain finish of his helmet where his eyes should be. Which is a useless effort. The tint is too dark and she can make out no movement behind the slick shell. There is no mistaking that he is looking at her with intense scrutiny though, no matter that she cannot see his eyes. She can _feel_ his stare and it feels heavy and deep.

"_Come_," he rasps in a hoarse hiss, before snatching her arm firmly and they are whisked away from the many eyes that watch in a smattering of Crystals.

The next moment, she finds herself within the vaulted hall of the throne room and marvels afresh at how spectacular it still looked. She cannot help but stop temporarily, to marvel that this was how they would always look. Age would never touch these walls of solid stone. She imagines that even as centuries pass, the shape and color of these meticulously etched walls would forever be the same. For they were timeless in craftsmanship and eternal in their fortification.

The first time she had been within this room had been the last time she had been permitted entrance into the city. Appearances may not have altered, but the ambiance that has definitely changed. The room had always retained a chilly air from the cold stones, but she had never felt fear within its walls. Fear and dread and unease saturated the air now. She can feel the presence of ill, like a physical person. The whispers from earlier come in a more steady stream now. This presence seems to stand just behind her and repeats those debasing comments again. It's chilling breathe causes her flesh to break out into goosebumps.

Something menacing was here and it had nothing to do with the hoarsely breathing man that still grips her arm securely.

A door opens noisily and then Noctis saunters into the room to join them. He walks listlessly and almost belligerently as he strides in at his leisure. Like someone who does not care for etiquette. Like someone ill mannered and ill taught. He shots her a cocky, snide smirk before he flops gracelessly onto the stone throne. The look does not match the person she had known at all.

"Now," he says with a heavy sigh of feigned patience. "Who are you? And what the hell are you doing sneaking around my Kingdom like this?"

Her heart, which had previously raced as soon as he had opened the door had frozen at the casual indifference in his voice. He does not even deign to look at her, but looks at his nails distractedly instead.

"How can you ask that?" she asks, before she can stop herself. She takes an unconscious step closer but is restrained by the hand that still around her upper arm.

Noctis leans his head on his fist, looking at his freshly shined boot, as if he had not even noticed her distress. Did not notice and did not care to either.

"What do we do with people who dare trespass, Erebus?" Noctis asks without lifting his head. His eyes, however, look up with an evil gleam as he grins at her.

"To the sands," hisses the dark figure behind her in answer.

"Wait," she says in protest. "Noctis!" Her cry is almost strangled and it echoes loudly in the hall, as she is pulled away. "Noctis!"

"Last longer than the last unwelcome intruder did," Noctis bides flippantly.

She can only choke on her disbelief before she is whisked away again in another flash of crystals.


	16. Effigies

**Prompt: **#46 Ghost

**Summary: **There are things that the eyes can see. One just has to pay attention.

**A/N:** Continues the "Distortion" series.

Effigies is Latin for, "likeness/ghost".

_**Effigies**_

"You can take your hand off me now," she tells the dark figure who _still_ holds her so vigilantly. "I am not going to run away."

He gives her arm a parting squeeze as a warning should she back out on her word, before finally letting go.

"Thank you," she says primly. She makes a show of brushing her arm before looking up at him expectantly. "Considering how medieval your society has become, it surprises me that he did not want you to drag me to the gallows instead."

Silence is her only reply. Not that she had been expecting one. At least the man was consistent. Which seemed an almost comforting thing given on inconsistent Noctis had reacted. She takes a moment to stare up at his covered face again, but this time, not to try and see his real face. No, this time because she finds herself so curious about this man. This man, she feels is expecting something from her, in his stance.

"By sands I am presuming that I am to fight in the arena."

A brisk nod is the answer this time and a not too gentle shove to get her walking for added effect.

"Since when is a battle to the death such a source of amusement for Noctis?"

"_Prince_ Noctis," he hisses, with another jerk of his chin to keep her moving.

"_Lord_ Noctis then," she compromises, with as much respect as she has for the dust under her shoe. She thinks that if she could see Erebus' face, his eyebrow would be quirked at her cheek. The both of them stop walking to stare at one another again and she feels a sudden urge to explain herself to him. "There was a time when me putting a title before his name made him uncomfortable. He used to want me to call him, Noct," she finds herself adding quietly.

It takes her level best not to sound as defeated as she feels by the remembrance of this, endearing fact. Even during their first meeting, he had told her to call him that. Now, he did not even know her face. He did not care to know it any longer. His easy rejection had wounded her deeply. Five years to be crushed so completely. The man she loves had callously dismissed her, had ordered to fight so that he could be a spectator as she fought for her life. It was cruel, twisted and nothing like the man she had known. What could have changed him? How had things changed? She cannot believe that he has completely turned from what he had been. When what he had been, was whole.

Before long, they are within a long, wide corridor with no decorations hanging on either walls. She can hear the rumblings of the masses above her, but they are muffled through the thick stone. Another battle has already begun above them and they must lie in wait before it is her turn to take center stage. She offers a silent prayer for the unfortunate soul that would meet it's end in such a short time, before turning to glare defiantly at the man beside her.

"What happens when I win?" she asks.

"You won't," is the hoarse reply.

"What makes you so certain that I will lose?" she demands, placing her hands on her hips. "Just who am I fighting anyway?"

There is another moment of regard under the black tint.

"Me," he hisses finally, bringing his face ever closer to her own. A rumbling, growl like sound emits from the inside of his helmet as he lets out a long breathe. He is glaring at her menacingly, no doubt. Any lesser man would quake under so heated a gaze from him.

Fortunately, she was not a lesser man. She was not a man at all.

He does not give her an opportunity to reply, before he is gone instantly. Immediately, the MC bellows for the crowds the attention. Seems, the previous battle had already been completed and it was her turn to go. The walls around her lift up and opens to the blinding lights of the arena. It seems so primal and primative to have so many roaring spectators, giving their rancorous cheer. As her eyes take in the blur of so many people, she refuses to let her heartbreak get the best of her. Not when she needed all her wits about her. She refuses to die in this manner. She will not. Her vision hones in on the lone figure that sits upon the covered canopy in his throne and lifts her chin to him. She will not yield and brings her shoulders back defiantly. Though she knows he is not close enough to see, she sniffs her indignation and turns a cheek in insult.

Her sense of survival was more abundant than most and she has not come this far to end her journey here. She has won too many battles that had been more dangerous than this. She has survived death with impossible odds. So she was going to get out of this and she was going to find supreme satisfaction in slapping Noctis into a new age when she did. Firstly though, she had to get through this match without being bested by the striking figure that has made so many men tremble in fear.

"Fighter One versus Erebus," announces the booming voice of the announcer.

The blaring, deafening sounds of the crowd in answer, makes it clear what they thought of this man. He was their champion. Looking at him as they face off against each other, she cannot help but think their adoration completely justified. He did, by all accounts, look like a man who did not meet with failure. From his confident, yet graceful, gaunt to the strong set of his shoulders, one could not doubt that he was a man that could handle himself. She is sure that many an opponent had fallen under his sword. It strikes her as supremely odd that she felt neither fear nor disgust in regards to him. All those accounts that she had heard of him, had weaned her to expect to feel repulsed detraction. Instead, as she studies him carefully again, she finds an attraction, an almost magnetic aspect about him that does not make her want to flee him at all. She takes another quick glance at Noctis, his face though still in shadow, but she can feel the weight of his eyes upon her. Only his returning gaze was one of ill birth. She wonders if it matches the look of the man who stands against her now.

The slashing sound of an unsheathed sword draws her attention away from Noctis and back to the enigma that she must fight. Her own rune flashes and she unsheathes her rapier. She has but a split moment to notice that Erebus' rune is a blood red before he begins his steady attack. Her instincts kick in before her brain fully engages and her blade is already poised in a shielding position at the same moment he teleports right in front of her with his blade already swinging downward. Their blades clash with violent sparks of fire and heat. Her reflection looks back at her from the shine of his helmet before they push away and begin the fight.

As they engage, with swords clashing and runes flashing, an uneasy feeling of familiarity creeps into her. A feeling that she had been here before. That she has fought this battle before. Though he does not hold back when he moves to strike, the way his body moves is so distinctly familiar that it feels like he does. The style in which he fights is a ghost from her past and does not match what her eyes have seen. What she sees and what she feels do not coincide. It is impossible that her instincts could be true.

The distraction, this gives her, no matter that it was brief, is enough of an advantage for him. He takes it by slamming the flat side of his sword, knocking her rapier harshly from her grip. The edge of his blade points at the area just above her heart and the rustling sounds of his exerted breathes add to further confusion inside her. So distracted by her discovery, she pays no mind to the danger that she is in. That he has the tip of blade ready for a killing blow hardly registers as she squints her eyes to vainly try to see the face that is hidden under the thick shell of a mask.

"It is you," she says slowly, in a low whisper.

The helmet tilts with his own confusion at her unexpected words.

"How? How can this be?" she asks, taking a small step closer to him and also, to the blade. Her hand reaches to try and touch him.

A loud, violent explosion rocks the ground beneath her feet. The sands of the arena jump as a wave of power almost knocks her off balance. Erebus jerks his head toward the direction of the source, lowering his sword in the process and makes to leave, but not before gazing at her closely, intently from inside the helmet. He seems to hesitate to leave her but is gone in a flash.

She has no time to recover from this dual shock before there is a shout of her name and a pair of thick arms haul her quickly away amid the ensuing chaos the bombing has caused.


	17. Satis

**Prompt: **#25 Enough

**Summary:** Whatever he did, he never thought he could get it right.

**A/N: **Part of the Undead Series.

Satis is Latin for, "enough, sufficient".

_**Satis**_

There is nothing so low, for any man, to not be able to support his beloved. Not only for the one that he loved so well, but for those that looked to him for leadership. Of which, in his circumstance, were many. They _all_ depended upon him to provide. They expected results. He demanded them himself but he has never felt so low as he does now when it came to claiming them himself. Results were slim and so successes could only be considered minor. Provisions were scarce. Their opposition was fast on their heels and no matter how hard and how long he fought, he could not seem to fulfill even their basic needs. It makes him feel inadequate and unworthy of the trust they gift him with every time that he looks into their pleading eyes.

True, he was no magician. He could not magically provide food or water or clothing or shelter. Least of all, for so many. What had begun with only two had become five and then ten. Now, he is not sure their small forest stronghold will be strong much longer, if they continued to have additions coming in. His lack of experience and young age meant nothing when they all look to him to lead them. That he was a prince, gave him the responsibility by birthright. Not that he was a _real_ prince any longer, but people did not see it that way. He was royalty no matter that he did not possess his crown now. So, by right, should watch over them. It was getting harder and harder to do that. To find all the bare necessities it would take to make everyone comfortable was a daunting task. Not only to see to those basic needs. With the growth of individuals, it was only reasonable for the domestic disputes to arise among them too. As if it was not bad enough that they had such a vicious enemy so intent on their destruction, they had to deal with the daily arguments that arose within their band of misfits. For those matters, he left them into the hands of Gladiolus and Prompto. Prompto who was the best people person and Gladiolus was good at enforcing whatever Pro decided upon. While Ignis, Stella and himself were the ones who formed a trio of leaders to delegate small responsibilities among the camp. They were also the ones who went out on the rescue missions to save others and gather much needed supplies.

As he walks around the camp, he is filled with a sense of resentment and heartache. They, these people, and himself included, were all considered, The Undead. Those cursed individuals that had survived whatever traumatic experience that should have killed them. Those who now had gifts and could see The Light. These faces that he sees all bow as he passes them. Not an expression of servitude, but an acknowledgement and sign of respect for all the burdens that he must carry upon his shoulders. He can only offer them a neutral expression and a nod to accept their honoring gesture though. To smile would be a fraud. So he can not and he does not smile in greeting. It does not seem right to feign light heartedness when so many others were being tortured and tested while they are free of that. So many like them and if the enemy had it's way, all of them would also be right now.

So many to save. So many to take care of already. So many that he must find provisions for, to care for. Every face he sees, every sign of respect given him, forces him to do better. He knows all their faces. He has committed them to memory because he knows he must be able to recall them in the dark days that were surely to come. He needed to do better. To _be_ better. To _do_ more.

A group of small children in mid play halt when they see him. Their eyes like large globes on their little faces. Their gazes are innocent and curious, lacking any animosity or resentment. None approach him, nor do they say anything, but he manages a wane smile as he passes them. For children, he has to muster more strength to at least _look_ pleasant. A peculiar inclination considering her had never been particularly fond of children. They, unlike him, were too young to do anything at all. He needed to keep remembering that, even though he was a child himself in many ways.

To them, he was like an untouchable phantom protector that they both love and fear. The adults hide this better, though they feel much the same way. He was _not_ a social person, which he supposes, makes this even more easier for them to feel the way they do. Small talk and idle chitchat always make him feel awkward and self conscious. So he does not even try. He has never understood that particular inducement and always came up short. It also held true for his public speaking skills, of which there are non. So of course, though everyone respects him, they can never _approach_ him. To them, he is not the one that they feel they can run to when they need anything. Regardless of the fact that it is him, that ends up providing it anyway. It seemed unimaginable for them to see this was because he was shy. Not because he did not like them. His feelings towards them went beyond _liking_ anyhow. Obligated and begrudgingly caring for them because he knew they needed him, but did they _really_ need him?

Was there anything that he could do right? Was he really accomplishing anything for these people that depend on him so avidly? What did they really think of him?

A soft hand takes hold of his own. A warm, comforting hand that felt so welcoming when his own were cold and uninviting. The hand leads him away from all those watchful, steady eyes and takes him to a thick stretch of vines and coverage, where none can watch him. The air here is cool and moist, serene and infusing too. He takes a deep breathe of this moistened air and slowly feels his mind begin to clear. For a moment, he closes his eyes to cherish the warmth of the hand and the calmness of the forest, before he opens his eyes to meet her sparkling ones.

"I have found a diamond in the rough," he says, squeezing her hand in gratitude.

She snorts indelicately though it still _sounds_ delicate to his ears, but she squeezes his hand back in thanks.

"Definitely rough," she comments.

"I have told you before that I have always felt the same."

"So you say," she says with a disbelieving look, though there is still a small smile on her lips. "Maybe one day I can actually believe that."

"You should believe it now."

"As _you_ should believe that you are doing enough," she says, arching her eyebrow in challenge. Challenging him to deny that he was wondering just that.

He frowns at her unexpected statement. Was he that transparent?

"Because you do," she insists. "You are not inadequate nor are you insufficient. These people need you and rightly so. I need you too. So stop this self deprecation right now."

"How? How can this be enough?" he demands, gesturing to the pathetic camp that they must call home.

"To expect anymore from you would be selfish," she argues. "You do what you can and they know it too. Nobody complains because they know how hard this is for you."

He contemplates this quietly with his eyebrows drawn together.

"Stop that," she chides, brushing her hand against his creased forehead. "You will prematurely wrinkle with all these frowns."

"My looks are not as important as all that," he says in amusement.

"Well, you know they are already a little afraid of you already. What with you constantly frowning and scowling and not speaking," she says with a laugh and she takes away the warm hand away from his forehead and he wants to snatch it back. "But they appreciate all you do. So do I. None of us would be here if it were not for you."

"Living like _this_," he hisses in disgust.

"But they _live_," she insists. "Living is a gift."

"Is it?"

"Of course."

"You say that so easily."

"Because the simple things are easy to say."

"You are becoming a riddler," he says sardonically.

"At least I am making sense," she says, poking his shoulder. "Now, you and I need to go meet Ignis so we can invade that compound tonight."

Yes, another compound to invade. He feels uneasy about this next attack, but he knows they have no choice. They are rapidly running out of supplies and it needed to be done. He would have to be enough, because he was all that they had.

_Heaven help them._


	18. Perdo

**Prompt: **#27 Waste

**Summary: **Which of them, exactly, is the one that is wasted?

**A/N: **The Dragon Knight Series

Perdo is Latin for, "to ruin, waste, scatter, squander".

_**Perdo**_

"And what, is it that you think this is?"

"I'd have thought it was a no brainer, Knight," he answers with an incredulous expression on his scarred face. "A shirt, jeans… unmentionables."

"_Unmentionables_?" she mocks with a snide laugh. "What are you, a priest? It's a bra and knickers with… _those_ things."

"Got a problem with jeans?" he asks in challenge. He actually looks intrigued by the notion that she may hate jeans all together, which makes her want to roll her eyes.

"Do I look like I need clothes?"

"Yes," he says shortly. "You look like an overdressed chess piece."

She makes a sound in argument but he goes right over any protests she might have tried getting out.

"Look, that bulk you're wearing might be the norm for you but we uncultured cads, like to be comfortable."

"I _am_ comfortable."

"Yeah, I'm sure that metal thing hanging from the back of your head made it _real_ easy to sleep last night."

"Maybe it did," she huffs defiantly. Of course it hadn't, but he didn't need to know that. Not that she had actually _tried_ to sleep anyway. She had spent much of the night trying to keep her mind alert and ready in case someone should try anything nefarious. It might actually might just kill her to admit that she was starting to feel the strain from lacko f sleep. From what she could recall, it was over forty-eight hours of no sleep so far. In the face of this latest impertinence though, her fatigue was taking a backseat to her annoyance.

"Besides, haven't you ever heard of modesty?" he asks however. From that knowing look in his eye, he knows that she didn't get any sleep last night either and seemed to be enjoying her rattled brain. The ass!

"It is not my fault that you are such a prude."

His loud, barking laugh in response is disconcerting. She has never actually _heard_ anyone laugh that loudly and that freely before now and certainly not from anything _she_ had ever said. Just were just not her thing. When he finally collects himself, he wipes a merry tear from his eyes. Which makes her even more uneasy because she hadn't made her statement to be humorous.

"Me? A prude? I haven't had that good a laugh since Pro fell face first after tripping over his own rifle," he barely finishes the statement before he's rumbling with another laugh.

"Then why are you making me dress like a frump?"

"Does it look like a Moo moo to you?"

"It looks like you're trying to tame me."

"Knight, taming you is the furthest thing from my mind."

His reply surprises her. Which, only serves to annoy her even more.

"Aren't you going to ask me my name, _Prude_?"

"After you ask me what mine is, _Paranoid_."

She sniffs in answer.

"Knight it is, then," he says, nodding towards the outfit he has laid on top of the bed she did not sleep in the night before. Right now, it was almost too tempting to lay down. She was becoming so exhausted.

"I don't want to wear that," she complains warily. "I like what I'm wearing now."

"Used to using your wiles to get men to do what you want, eh?" he asks, giving her, her first good leer from him.

Yet, why did seeing him look at her like so many other men had before, disappoint her?

"Well, that's not gonna work here. We like to respect our women," he finishes.

"Ha!"

"Your men just fell on you like dogs in heat or something?"

She glares at his audacity.

"Gives you a reason to castrate them, is that it?" he says it like it's a statement, more than a question. "Which would be entrapment."

"Not when it's justified!"

"Not when you're advertising like some cheap tart. A man's only a man."

"Cheap tart!" she yells. "And 'only a man'? And yet the lot of you are a bunch of chauvinistic pigs!"

"Chauvinist? Sure. Pig? Nah," he admits, with an easy shrug. "That would imply we're not all that picky about takin' scraps."

"Are you calling me scraps!" she seethes.

"You don't have a boyfriend, do you."

Her mouth opens and closes a couple times before she gets over her surprise, at his completely left fielded question.

"What does _that_ have to do with _anything_?"

"You figure it out, Maneater."

"Yes, I have men for breakfast all the time!"

He snorts at her and she feels like she's just told a bad joke somehow. She does _not_ like that she always feels so foolishly off base with this man.

"Speaking of which, put those on and we can get some breakfast."

"I'm not going to be brought something in here?" she asks, with sincere confusion.

"Do I look like room service?"

"So, you have a cafeteria of some sort for prisoners?"

"Did I say you were a prisoner?"

"Why aren't I?"

"You're complaining about _that_ too?"

"What Am I Doing Here!" she has an uncommon urge to stomp her foot or kick him in the shins. Preferably the second option.

"I already told you. Killing you would be a waste of a good fighter and so would keeping you locked up."

"Even though I fight for the opposing side?"

"So you tried to kill, Noct," he says with such casual nonchalance that it makes her feel like her entire mission had meant absolutely nothing at all. "Not like that's a surprise. We just think you've been misguided, that's all."

"Why aren't you, at least, angry that I tried?" she asks quietly.

"You know what else is a waste?" he asks her instead giving her an answer. "You wearing that ridiculous armor when we leave this room. If you're trying for temptress that ain't gonna cut it here. Not sure if you've noticed, but we're a dressed down bunch. The only gawking you'd get would be the incredulous kind."

"I hate you," she growls lamely. Which sounded so incredibly _simple_ that she felt downright idiotic for stating it. He was making her lose her wits.

The big oaf even takes _that_ remark in stride. Just a half cocked eyebrow and an ill attempt at hiding another knowing smirk is his reaction.

"Yeah well it's to be expected," he replies with another of his indifferent shrugs.

Did nothing bother him? How could he remain so casual about the hateful things that she knew at him? He always looked so put together, leaving her feeling a mess.

"Now tell me what you really feel?" he asks jovially, ending the question with a small chuckle.

She lets out something between a shriek and a scream but he's already taken hold of both her wrists before she can do him bodily harm.

"Feisty and frisky," he comments, using the awkwardness of her weighted form to throw her onto her back. Each of his knees press down on each of her corresponding biceps and his shins push down on her thighs. The position does not hurt her, but it is effective at keeping her immobile. "Looks like all you've been trained for is bodily stuff. I bet you'd be a great sparring partner but you seem to suck with the verbal sparring."

"Get _off_ me you, Cretin!"

"I've never claimed to be an expert on women but you've sure managed to baffle me, Knight."

"What are you _on_ about?" she demands, lifting her head up long enough to give him a good glare before resting it back on the floor.

"You use fancy words but you don't seem to know how to fight with them."

She blinks up at him for a few minutes and wonders if what he says is true. It had never occurred to her that, that was how she was because she had never had to use her verbal skills to battle anyone before.

"I bet you never had a guy court you either."

"What does my love life have anything to do with it?"

"Just a theory."

"Well, out with it then."

"I bet your first kicked your ass in battle and won it. It had nothing to do with you wanting him for him."

She blanched. "How _dare_ you!"

"So I'm right," he says with a grim look on his face. He doesn't look approving but he also does not look condemning either. "So the way I see it is this. Noct beat you fair and square. So…"

"He gets to _have_ me?" she scoffs loudly.

He gives her a chiding look. "There you go, only thinking about the physical again."

"So what are you proposing then?"

"If you'd let me finish," he says, adjusting his knees so that his hands can hold her wrists in place instead. "That means he's conquered you. So by your warrior code, he's your new Lord."

"You think that by him beating me, I am now obligated to serve him?"

"Isn't that what you just admitted to yourself?"

This man. This giant, gruff man was making incredibly frightening sense and she could not say a word in argument. She tried to. But it was partially true. The Prince _had_ spared her life and…

"I'm guessing your attempt at suicide was also because you knew that too."

Her eyes flash to his. If he had looked even remotely smug about this, she would have smashed his forehead with her own, but he doesn't. He merely looks at her patiently, waiting for her to try and needle or argue around what he's just said. All she can do is stare back at him, really stare at him. Whatever look is in her eyes seems to give him the indication that he need no longer pin her down. He lifts his body off of her to stand, leaving her an opening to attack, if she were so inclined. She's too thrown to even think it though. His eyes are indecipherable as he looks down at her deflated form, but it's steady. Just like the rest of him.

"Are you the brains in your outfit?" she asks numbly. She's amazed, really. A little in awe at how quickly he'd grasped her reasonings.

He snorts another barking laugh before offering her a hand to help her up.

"Nah," he says, making sure she's steady on her feet before releasing her hand. "I'm the brute."

She's speechless again. This time at his role in Prince Noctis' court. _He_ was the brute? The one who did all the brainless grunt work? As she takes his hand, she reaches her own conclusion about _him_.

She thinks _he_ was the one that was wasted, not her.

"Now, put some real clothes on and then we can finally eat, Knight."

"No!" she snaps, despite herself. "I'm not a doll for you to dress up!"

His smirk tells her, he appreciates her spunk and she's confused all over again.

"Well then I guess it's a good thing I grabbed a bagel before coming in here."

"Why?" she asks suspiciously.

"Cause we're not leaving here until you get out of those gaudy things you call clothes."

The brute? The man was a master sadist and manipulator. He _had_ to be lying about being the muscle. Those knitwits were never _this_ intelligent.


	19. Quasso

**Prompt: **#41 Shake

**Summary: **Her world was about to be violently shaken.

**A/N: **This relates to the series where Noctis and Stella are lost in the forest together and do not get along… at all.

Quasso is Latin for, "to shake violently, to shake to pieces, shatter".

_**Quasso**_

"You suspect what is going on. I just wish you would let me in on the secret."

"What makes you think that?"

"Beeecause you would have gone straight back to Nihilsomno if you did not suspect something was seriously amiss, otherwise."

He stops walking in order to peer at her from over his shoulder.

"Figured that out did you?" he asks, in that condescending way of his that always made her feel like a lesser being in his presence. "All by yourself? In that lovely head of yours? What took you so long?"

"Seems pretty obvious to me," she shoots back at him. "And no, I did not just come to that assessment. I have been trying to get you to explain yourself all day, but you have been as difficult as can be about giving me an answer."

He turns around fully so that they both get an equal opportunity to look each other over speculatively.

"Now," she says, in her most snippy tone. "As I am in the same situation as you at the present. I have a right to know what you suspect is going on."

"Besides the fact that we were purposely separated from the others and stranded together in a cave. Then we are attacked as soon as it was convenient for them to do so?" he taunts.

"By 'convenient', you mean when we had _all_ been powerless during the electrical storm the night before?" she clarifies.

"Something like that," he answers vaguely. "Let us hope that we do not have the same thing happen tonight."

Was it only just last night that they had been forced into that cave to take up shelter during that lightning storm? How long a day could be when one was roving about a thick, humid forest that seemed to go on and on without end. This day seemed to last her a week's worth of days instead of just one. Her legs were beginning to tire and her feet had passed wear a few hours earlier. The afternoon was steadily moving onto early evening, but the heat of the day had not yet abated. It was not as humid as it had been, but she was feeling sticky and disgusting from the day's journeying.

"Let us not for a second forget that there has been no attempt at a rescue to come and collect us."

He means to imply that not only had his own party not come, but hers as well. Implying that they were both dispensable and most likely left for death by their own.

Which was not about to work.

"Perhaps if you were not so intent on getting yourself _lost_ in this never ending wilderness, they may have already found us."

"Trust me," he says with a scoff. "I _know_ they are not looking for us."

"And why should I trust you?" she asks, giving him a level look.

"Anyone else here you can trust, _Princess_?"

"Not that I can see," she says, not taking her eyes off of him once as she makes the bald statement. "All I can say for certain about you and is that of all this, you have the most mysterious of intentions."

"Like wicked intentions?" he asks, baiting her with another leering smirk.

"That might refer to the question of why they made sure it was just the two of us."

"We are royalty and we both have gifts?" he asks as a question, as if he were talking to a simpleton.

"That is _not_ what I meant," she replies, giving him a good glare before she raises an eyebrow.

He was _not_ going to get out of this one.

She even persists by stepping forward so that they can face each other straight on when she speaks next.

"I had stepped away by myself for a bit of privacy. So why were you there just at that precise time, when we were separated?"

"Spying," he answers without any hint of remorse.

"While I was…," she stutters nonsensically as the implications of his words hit her fully. It was one thing to _think_ of him doing it but it was quite another to hear him blatantly admit it so shamelessly.

"I did not actually _watch_," he says with a scoff. "That would be sick."

"As if there was anything not sick with you spying on me!" she cries. "Would you tell me_ why_ you felt the need to spy on me when I was obviously not doing anything suspicious."

"Had to make sure."

"Of what?" she says in exasperation. "To see if I had used the wrong leaves when I was finished?"

"What a thought!" he says with a loud chuckle. "Now _that_ would have been a laugh. The fluttery princess of Tenebrae, suffering from an irrepressible bout of rash from wiping herself with the wrong type of leaves in an extremely sensitive area."

"_Fluttery_?" she asks, not exactly sure why she was taking such exception to _that_ part of his mockery. "You think I am _fluttery_?"

"You are always flittering about like some kind of bird," he says with a nod.

"What?" she snaps, ready to tell him exactly what she thought of that. "You… you…"

It is not a sputtering indignation that halts her from defaming his name, but the very drastic way in which his expression changes as she tries to recall the most colorful words in her vocabulary to hurl at his cactus needled head. His face, which had been relaxed and playful, instantly hardens and his blue eyes bleed out to red with deadly intent. As her mind explains why this has happened, in the next instant she feels a rumble of something very large approaching very fast, a short distance away.

"No more time to play, Princess," he says, unsheathing his broadsword. "It is time to work."

The pounding shakes grow in magnitude and the rocks around them begin to roll downward. The leaves are shaking off of the high tree tops to rain down on them. All signs that something big and imposing was launching towards them with great speed. She opens her mouth to try to strategize with him, but he is already gone. He appears again on a clearing far above her. So high up that she needs to strain her neck to get a good look at him. He makes a show of flashing his rune and drawing the full attention of the gigantic beast.

Two massive pays crash down on either side of his body, yet he stands his grown and glares up at its seething face. He looks so dwarfed by the humungous creature but there is no fear in his stance. A thunderous roar blasts rings in her ears, causing some of the branches from the trees to snap right off.

Now, she cannot say whether his attempt at engaging the dragon away from her was heroic or an attempt to undermine her fighting abilities. It would be helpful if he actually gave her some sort of _warning_ before he acted out what he intended. Instead of leaving her to guess. She could really do without his oft times rude commentary too. He should know her well enough to know that she would not be happy standing by the way side while he had all the action. It should not be a surprise as he has had her riled up all day. So the appearance of an opponent is welcome to her now, when she had been apprehensive of an attack before.

As he engages the sinister dragon into an extremely uneven match, she has an impulsive urge to childishly distract him while he should be otherwise preoccupied. It is only the unwritten common understanding between warriors that others do not interfere unless it was to aid that has her pushing aside the urge. As much as she would _really_ enjoy tossing him off his mantle, getting him unduly crushed by one of the massive limbs that were currently trying to mutilate him or getting him cooked like a kabob by a well aimed breathe of fire, he was someone that had too much to offer the world to fall in such a way. As much as she dislikes him as a person, as a persona, as a leader, he had a very meaning path to follow in his life. She could see that, when he left her long enough to have her senses to think of it.

"Could use a little help here, _Princess_," he manages to drawl. How he was sure that his voice would echo so well was beyond her, because he does not raise his voice when he says this. His tone is no less strained than it was when it was just the two of them, which caused her a great level of aggravation. He manages to duck just in time for a well aimed swipe of an enormous claw to narrowly avoid ruffling his spikes. It only manages to blow some wind but does not actually touch the strands.

She takes it as a sign that she was _definitely_ not in the right frame of mind when just that motion vexes her so greatly. It is almost enough to make her lose her head when this was not the proper time to be losing one's head. How was it _even_ possible that after two days of no proper grooming, his hair was _still _perfect? Whatever hair product he used, she wanted the name of it when this was over.

"Coming as summoned, your _Majesty_," she mocks, even going so far as to salute him briefly with a quick swipe of her rapier. Then she is running to join the fight, placing a few well executed slices into the sensitive underbelly of the dragon.

A vicious roar of outraged pain reverberates through the air, followed by an impressive breathe of white heated fire. The smell of burning pine and cedar quickly fill the air as the forest becomes alight. They needed to end this quickly or else they will be in far more danger than an angry dragon. The dried needles of the pine catch and spread like a tidal wave of unstoppable flames. One thing at a time. She is much more attuned to not becoming a victim of one of those talon like claws who want swift retribution for the wounds she has just inflicted upon it.

The loud clang of a sword against shell plated skin hail the efforts of Noctis, though she cannot see him from the angle she is currently in. Another burst of flaming breathe cause a gushing torrent of heat that she can feel a bit too close for comfort. It feels like her skin is being singed. As the minutes pass, the dragon seemed to be weakening but not quickly enough for her as she too, was becoming weaker. That and the air was becoming increasing difficult to breathe. She had a knick on her arm and thigh but nothing serious. There was no way of knowing how Noctis was holding up, injury wise, but even he must be becoming weaker from the exertions of their fight. The air was beginning to fill with white, snow like ash, as the fires devoured all the foliage around them. The smoke is so suffocating, she becomes overwhelmed for wheezy gasps of air. Visibility was steadily growing worse as sheets of white covered everything around them.

The dragon lets out another boisterous roar and Noctis uses that moment to strike it down with a booming, crackling blast of lightning, right between its eyes. The roar is cut off just before another burst of flame can be released and then the massive scaly body comes crashing down into the burning trees. Another coughing fit seizes her as three trees come barreling down towards her at all sides. In that next instant she knows that whatever she does, it will not be enough to dodge all three of them at once. She could not see where was safe and where was dangerous in the thickness of the ash.

Just as two of the thick trunks are about to land on top of her, she is whipped away in a shattering blaze of clear crystals. Her feet touch down on a rocky plain. Her knees buckle and she falls heavily on the rock plateau, much higher than where she had been just a moment before. She cannot even raise her hand to cover her mouth as she succumbs to another hacking cough, when two hands turn her over onto her back and red eyes appear in her watery vision. Red eyes that she knows she really _does_ dislike, stare down at her but she cannot help but be comforted by them too. Pale lips move but she cannot make out what they say at first.

"_Princess_? Hang in there," she hears as through ears stuffed with cotton.

Is that genuine concern that she sees in those eyes that have changed from red back to blue?

"_Stella__!_"

She be giving him a vacant stare as she gazes up at him because he starts patting her cheek gently to help her gain focus.

"Don't go and get airheaded on me now."

She wants to give a retort to that but she cannot seem to get any words past her scratchy throat. Her head, does indeed, feel filled with air because she cannot string two thoughts together.

"Are you faking it?" he asks, looking suddenly skeptical instead of concerned. "Because if you are, I must say I am disappointed."

Her gaze sharpens on him and must be all the answer he needs. He actually has the nerve to chuckle. She is more motivated to snap at him, but it is the relief also evident in his chuckle that prevents her from letting out a cough in his face in retribution.

"I thought you would be a lot tougher to crack," he comments casually. He lets out his own string of coughs but they do not sound nearly as debilitating as hers are.

She does manage to give him an eye roll before she gives in to another bout of hacking, lung hurting coughs.

"_Jerk_," she manages to get out between coughs.

He actually laughs at the insult and she finds her own thoughts smug as she notices that the ash has turned his hair white.

Then he goes and does something that has her completely shaken. Shaken in a way that their fighting had not. He places each of his hands on the sides of her face and kisses her forehead affectionately. It _feels_ affectionate with a large dosage of relief mixed in. It was a kiss that one did _not_ give to someone they despised.

"I am going to check the area for any place we can stay for the night," he says softly, giving her a sideways glance before he pushes to his feet. "I need to make sure you are all right."

The surprise, she is sure, is obvious on her face.

Then he smirks at her.

"I would hate to lose my only source of entertainment," he says lightly.

Then he is gone.


	20. Crentus

**Prompt: **#7 Stained

**Summary: **There are certain things that cannot be washed away.

**A/N: **Continues the "Distortion Series".

Crentus is Latin for, "stain with blood".

_**Crentus**_

So great is her distress in this moment, that she does not even scream out as thick, meaty arms wrap securely around her and haul her away from the panic of chaos that permeated the arena. A hooded cape is thrown over her shoulders, before her head is completely covered. Her ribs are jostling painfully as he half carries her and her breathes come out ragged and shallow before she is allowed to run with him on her own two feet. It is perhaps that she unconsciously knows who the man is that hurries her along instead of her instincts kicking in to defend herself. So she does not even struggle and follows his lead obediently.

People rush past in blurry streaks from beyond the hood she dons. The wool of it is scratchy and hot, but she dares not make any move to pull it off as she continues to let him lead her to where she knows she will be hidden safely. When they get some distance away and finds they are completely alone, she finally turns her head to get a good look at him, but she does not say anything for fear someone may hear anyway. Just the sight of his familiar face gives her such a sense of ease and so much hope. Hope that she had been steadily losing since she had seen how far Noctis had changed for the worse. So, to see that he and the others are still alive is a blessing against the harsh, baffling facts that she has just been faced with. It is not until they are well away from anywhere else that she trusts herself enough to speak.

"Glad, I am so happy that you are alive!" she says in a hushed cry. Tears prickle in her eyes at the welcome sight of his scarred visage. "Are Ignis and Pro all right, too?"

"I wish we could have seen each other again under better circumstances, Stella," he says apologetically and she cannot help a smile at his chivalry. He who was so rough looking was always such a gentle giant towards her. "Kind of a dark reunion, don't you think?"

"Sadly, I would have to agree," she replies. Which was putting it _very_ mildly. The fact that she was befuddled and bewildered had her head feeling as if she were coming out a deep dream and thrust into a cruel reality. Her equilibrium had been knocked off its axis. "But I am only sorry that it has taken us so long to have it. That I could not get here sooner."

"Nuthin' you need to feel guilty about, Stell," he replies easily. He motions her in the right direction and they continue on at a more leisurely pace.

It tells her that for now, they are well enough away from prying eyes and ears and she can breathe her first sigh of relief since getting here.

"These years must have been agony to be in hiding so. How horrible for you all!"

"Now that you're here, I think we'll be just fine. That means an awful lot to us, Stella."

"It means an awful lot to me that none of you doubted that I would."

"We've learned never to doubt you," he says teasingly and she cannot but smile.

As they continue to walk along, the darkness becomes even thicker. The only light are the small pieces of glittering light along the walls. It looked as if they were walking through a mine. Yet even with their light, she has a hard time seeing her way in this darkness clearly. She can barely make out Gladiolus' form let alone see his expressions as they walk along. How many times had the three of them been forced to walk this path in order to reach a safe haven, that he should walk so confidently now? The amount of light was certainly not enough to give any clear indication of all that was around them. The absence of an echo to their footsteps is a sign that this passage way was purposely muffled to block the sounds. Very impressive and not a surprise considering Ignis was always very ingenious. It is the light, though, that she does not understand. Would the electric company not notice that there was energy being used down here? The air is stilted here, which meant ventilation was not the best and considering how far away they were walking from the outside, it should have been suspect. That is, if anyone bothered to look. Had they become _that_ neglectful? As they were everything else? Yet, the way the light shined was unlike any bulb that she had ever come across. That certainly was _not_ candlelight.

"What is the source of these lights?"

"Those are small discarded fragments of Crystal."

She falters in her steps at that.

"What...? How...?"

He stops long enough to look at her over his shoulder and waits for her to start moving again. Though she still cannot make out enough of him in this light, she can hear the sheepish look that must be in his face when he speaks next.

"It was kind of an accident, actually. A fluke," he explains as she gains enough of herself to follow into step with him again. "Ignis figured it out after Pro got it into his crazy head to collect them after each of Noct's battles."

Her heart goes out to him when she hears his bittersweet tone at this memory, before her eyes widen in remembrance.

"I remember you guys telling me that!"

"Remember, he did it as a joke originally?" he continues. "Said he was gonna save them to use as confetti when we made it through alive." She can make out his arm as he gestures to the small glows on the walls.

"Yes, I remember," she answers with a fond smile. "He was quite proud of remembering to gather them too."

"As you can see, there was a lot that he ended up collecting. We've got more that Ignis is still tinkering with."

"How did he manage to keep so much? You guys never said," she asks in genuine wonder. It was something Pro would do and would become an inside joke to all of them. From the amount that were along the passageway, there had been _much_ he had ended up gathering along the way. "It must have been extremely heavy after a short while."

"We kept them in the car," Gladiolus answers with a smirk in his voice. "Some, he managed to even send himself whenever we passed a major town." That had her snorting. Yes, that was _definitely_ something he would do. Pro may act like a dimwit, but he was not dim witted at all. "Ignis ragged on him about the weight wasting our gas. I ragged that it made us need more pit stops _for_ that gas. Noct, well Noct snorted about it costing the crown a pretty penny for a bunch of dust."

"Noctis, always so diplomatic," she manages a soft laugh at the memory. Their easy camaraderie had been one of the things that she had loved most about being in their company, brief though those moments had been. They had all made such a horrible time bearable with so much ease.

"We're just up here, Stella," he tells her, his mood sounds less somber and she is glad that she has made his heart a little lighter.

They come upon a frame of heavy metal, double doors. The metal gleans like the walls do. As they come closer, she leans forward to get a better look at them.

"We coated with them the Crystals dust too," he relays to her factually.

She looks at him in question, forgetting that the light was too dim for him to actually _see_ the question on her face.

"Noct can't teleport through a door coated with Crystal dust," he explains. "So if he ever found this place, he'd have to break the door down and we have a back way if that happens."

"Has he ever come close to finding you?"

"A couple times," he replies. "But Noct's not as quick on the up take as he used to be."

Before she can ask him what he means by that, the doors swing wide open.

"Stell!" cries Prompto, before he pulls her into a crushing hug and she cannot help but laugh at his enthusiasm. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes!"

"Pro!" she cries, hugging him back as much as is allowed with the tight hold he has on her.

"Boy am I happy to see you, Stell," he says, leaning back to give her one of his grins. "I've had to look at _their_ ugly mugs all this time. You're a major upgrade!"

"Flatterer!" she accuses with a laugh, giving him a light punch before turning to look at the other occupant in the room. "Ignis."

Ignis was not exactly a quiet man. He spoke often, but it was hardly ever in a conversational manner. She could never just chat with him as she could with Glad or Pro. In many ways he often reminded her of a calmer Noctis. Ignis was like the older brother that indulged Noctis when he would have an occasional bout of temper. Ignis was ever patient and ever resourceful. Noctis had always needed him. He needed _all_ of them. What had made him think he did not? Why had he run them out? Why had he…?

Something passes through Ignis' normally guarded eyes and she can see that his eyes are as watery as hers own, before he walks forward and embraces her fiercely. An embrace that told her more than his words could ever say. Of the three, he showed the least amount of emotion and to see him so undone, makes her feel all the more guilty for not coming sooner. She returns his embrace just as fiercely and lets a few tears fall from her eyes.

"I am so sorry, Ignis," she whispers, through a thick throat.

"Finally got my message, I see," he says, pulling away to give her a light smirk.

"I am sorry it took me so long to find it."

No one, had a record of the inner layout of Nihilsomno. She had known all along, from the moment she had seen it, that someone had to have planted it there for her to find. She had hoped that it had been Noctis, but she cannot say she is surprised that it had been Ignis. He was clever, inventive and the most able, to get something like the layouts to her in such a way that only she could decipher it. It had taken her months to decode the instructions to draw the map accurately, but she had done it eventually.

"I didn't exactly leave it in an easy place," he says, excusing her just as quickly as Gladiolus had earlier.

She smiles gratefully at him for his abundant patience and looks at each of them in turn. To see the three of them again and whole, fills her with such joy that she wants to hug them all at once. Her three brothers were here and she was among them again. The sense of rightness that she had always felt while in their company washes over her again. She has missed each of them and now they have come together again. Not to save their kingdoms this time. This time to save one of their own. She feels one step closer to solving the mystery.

"Now, tell me everything. Spare me no detail. I want to hear it all," she urges, expecting Ignis to be the one to explain.

The three of them are silent for a moment but neither of them exchange a look between themselves either. They just seem saddened, burdened by the tale they knew they needed to tell her.

It is actually Prompto that speaks up.

"A Behemoth had wandered into the city streets," he starts, looking far away as he recollects the events. "This was right after we got back from our… journey." He manages a small grins at her. "Noct and I went to take care of business cause… well, we could handle it."

She nods. It would have been more beneficial if all of them had gone but Prompt and Noctis would have been more than able to take it down themselves. In any case, she was sure there was a good reason why Ignis and Gladiolus had not been there.

"So, I had a pretty good shot of the ugly ogre and I took it," Prompto continues. "What we didn't know was that there was a gas main right under the thing. Since it wasn't a regular old soldier, I had replaced my regular bullets with high explosive ones that Ignis had tweaked for me." He pauses to shift uneasily. "Noct had been standing too close and was hit by the explosion."

She inhales a shaky breathe just as Pro does, imagining how that must have looked to him.

"Noct didn't fly backwards or anything but his rune didn't kick in, in time," Pro says, before clearing his throat. "The Behemoth exploded on impact and chunks of it landed on Noct. I had been on an upper level so none of it hit me."

She frowns, letting her mind turn this fact over in her head, but she lets Pro continue without uttering a comment.

"One of its horns sliced Noct's throat," Pro continues thickly. He swallows a few times before shaking his head and moving to sit on one of the cushioned chairs. Her own breath seems to be stuck in her throat as her hand unconsciously touches it. The image of Noctis with such an injury is like a physical blow to herself. Still, it upsets her greatly that she had not been told of this incident before. Yet as Pro sits there heavily, lifting his hands as if he can see something staining them she pushes her own hurt feelings aside. "There was so much blood everywhere, the behemoth's and Noct's. I couldn't tell how much of it was his, but there was a lot of it." Feeling her heart break for him, she walks over to sit beside him, taking his hand to squeeze it gently.

"We've talked about this," Glad says in his gruff way, but his voice sounds significantly softer. "It's not our fault what happened. Not you for taking the shot and not us for not being able to be there."

She is glad that they were trying not to let the burden of guilt tear them apart, but she can see the difficulty. These men cared very deeply for each other, as brothers would. The loss of Noctis was like losing the head of their united body and she knows that they all must carry a large margin of guilt for not helping prevent his descent into… whatever madness he had obviously fallen into.

"He didn't want us to tell you," says Gladiolus, noticing how she must have looked at the news. "He didn't want to worry you when you were already overwhelmed on your end."

There is not much she say to that. It sounded so like Noctis that she knows it must be truth. She shakes her head in sorrow. "Please go on."

"After he was rushed to the hospital, he got stitched up and after a few days, he seemed fine," continues Ignis for Prompto's sake. "But then he started acting… _off._"

"Can I have an example?" she asks gently.

"He started closing us off," explains Gladiolus. "He started getting really moody and lashing out. A couple times he looked as if he was gonna kill us when we were practicing our sparring. Then he started forgetting things. He started forgetting people too." The look he gives her is enough to tell her that she had been among the ones that he had forgotten.

"He also started disappearing by himself for long periods of time," adds Ignis. "He never told us where he went, but he'd be gone for days. We thought he was off going to reflect and brood like he always did but this time, whenever he went away he'd come back angrier toward us. He'd curse us out for just about anything. We confronted him about it, but that only made it worse."

"Is that when Erebus came?"

The three of them nod.

"About that time," Ignis gauges. "Instead of us, he went to that helmet head for everything. When we confronted him again, he banished us."

Banished. How horrible. Nihilsomno was not just their home. It was their life. To be thrust away from it and all they had known and fought for, must have been crushing to the three of them. She can only be consoled that they had been together when it had happened.

"Where did Erebus come from?"

"Just showed up one day," answers Pro from beside her. "The bastard stood right by him as we were kicked out on our asses and told to never show our faces again."

"None of you have seen his face either, then?"

"Never, but I'd like to," growls Gladiolus.

"I think you would be astonished when you did," she says, in a small voice.

"Stella," Ignis says, leaning towards her to stare into her eyes intently. "Do you know who he is?"

Tears fall from her eyes as she nods yes in answer. Yes, she knows and they will not believe her, but she _needs_ to tell them. They would be better judges than any to say whether she had gone completely mad herself. Just as mad as Noctis had become.

"_He_ is Noctis."


	21. Fletus

**Prompt: **#48 Tear(s)

**Summary: **The agony of blood tears would be the price he paid for his vengeance.

**A/N: **This expands the "Undead Series".

Fletus is Latin for, "weeping, tears".

_**Fletus**_

Early evenings when the sun set and the hazy, lingering of light gave way to dark. The magical moment of dusk and the settling of twilight was his favorite time of day. It always had been. When the heat of the day dropped to a soft refreshing breeze that flittered through the air. The breeze always not quite strong enough for the desperately clinging leaves of a Sycamore tree to sing it's crackling song. A chilling stillness always sets in then, as if the entire planet waited with a hushed breathe for the sun to face its inevitable defeat to light up the sky. Leaving the heavens for the illumination of the moon.

A poignant silence. A wispy flow of air. A shiver to a nameless whisper. Lights that are not quite needed, yet are ready for the arrive of night. He thinks of that moment as others would think of the arrival of another day. Plants and animals that thrived in sunlight, woke to the promise of its new beginning. He thought of dusk as the promise of a fruitful night. The setting of each day. The welcoming chasm of blackness, was what he looked forward to. For the night was when _he_ thrived. Removing that feeling of being nothing short of useless during the hours that most were awake.

He thinks of all that now, as he hangs chained from thick links molded to the ceiling. They had given him cuffs to attach to them very nicely in order to keep him there securely. His arms scream in agony of the abuse of hanging there so long now. His legs feel the uselessness of immobility and the drag of gravity. Sweat trickles from all sides of his face and down his back. His head pounds from a direct blow from earlier and the thickness of blood mixes with the thinness of his sweat as he forces another pull upward in a show, to try and ease his suffering. His shoulders pop and he grits his teeth to keep his bellow of pain behind his lips. There are lacerations and bruises all over him but a numbness has finally set in now that he has reinserted his shoulder to rights. It is welcome, even as it serves to warn him that he does not have much time left. He must act. Now. They could not keep him forever.

They have tortured, humiliated, taunted and torn into him but no longer. He was dying now. It is almost unbearable to keep his sanity instead of becoming mad from the physical and psychological abuse they had subjected him to. It is trying not to give in to defeat. Yet, he will not. Never. He would be like the sun, who fought and fought even when it knew it was inevitable. Not when they had treated him so ill. They injected _things_ into him. They have tested the resiliency of his body. They have _cut_ him open and had watched with morbid glee as he suffered.

First, they had hung him upside down. All the blood flowing to his skull had made him feel as if it would implode. His head had stung so excruciatingly that he had wept. He had wept so bitterly that his tears had become blood. Still, the tests had continued on and on and on. There is no way for him to keep track of how much time has passed since his capture. They made sure to keep him in a room that was devoid of sunlight. The tests had been conducted at regular intervals that never seemed to cease. At any time that he was just reaching the kind of sleep that rejuvenated, they would begin again. He has never been so exhausted in his life.

His body was slowing down. It was not healing nearly as fast as it should be. The last thing they had inserted into him had been different. Not only had the incision been large and excruciatingly painful, the fluid forced into his bloodstream had wretched an agonized scream out of him. He was conscious of exactly where it flowed within his body to mingle with his red and white blood cells. The sensation was what he could imagine was similar to having shards of glass pulsing through his veins. They meant to poison him. He knew what that implied.

It means they had finally learned how to weaponize pieces of Crystal. They had figured out how to create a biological solution to exterminate all the Undeads, like himself. They were going to give them the most gruesome death of dying from the inside out. At this moment, they were waiting to see how long it would take to _kill_ him. The glean of triumph that he had seen on their faces when they had left him, had been more than enough of an indicator. It is the final test. This is how they planned for him to die all along. Watching behind reflective glass as he was slowly torn apart from within. This is the death they planned for all those people who had followed him so diligently. This feeling of inexplicable agony was how they wanted _Stella_ to die.

Imagining how it would look when she suffered from this, has him so enraged that he almost gives away his one advantage. They wanted to see him suffer and he was, but he was also going to give them a show. One worthy enough to be the last that they would _ever_ see. That thought alone, is what calms him and the knowledge that he would soon see another hauntingly beautiful twilight, and he would see it with Stella.

With gritted teeth and bitter tears of blood, he forces his body to strain against the bonds that keep him chained. He forces himself to keep straining until he feels the blood rush to his face and it pulses so hard, it nearly bursts out of his skin. Much more flows down from the wounds he already carries, but he continues to strain until his veins bulge just beneath the surface of his skin. Finally letting himself roar in agonized rage, like that of a beast making a last ditch effort to defy death, then forces his body to sag heavily. He remains deathly still as the chains swing from his exertions.

His entire body throbs and he can feel the thick blood that trickles down his body and drips onto the metal floor, but he cannot focus on that too intently. Instead he puts all his effort to recall his mental training. He concentrates on slowing his heartbeat and drawing shallower breathes in a mimicry of death. He closes off the sensory nerves that signal pain to the back of his mind forcing his body not to break out into spasms.

The sounds of heartbeat simmers down to a muted level and the steady drops of his sweat and blood splatter on the floor. The echo of it ringing in the hollow room. His body sways gently as it remains dangling from the chains. In their eagerness to congratulate themselves on their false success, they would not notice that the sounds of his dripping blood were odd. He was counting on their distraction. The dim light would also be to his advantage. So, he merely waits and waits for them to come.

Then, he will strike at last.


	22. Perlabor

**Prompt: **#19 Slip

**Summary: **What happened to her?

**A/N: **The Dragon Knight series.

Perlabor is Latin for, "to slip through".

_**Perlabor**_

"Why are you the only one that ever comes to see me?" she blurts out blatantly.

"I'm hurt. Honestly, Knight," he retorts, clutching a hand over his chest dramatically. "Tired of my company already?"

"Just wondering why _you_ got designated the job of being my handler."

"When I saved you," he answers.

"Did you act on your own?" she asks, through narrowed eyes.

"You forget Ignis was the one that had been piloting the airship," he points out with a raised eyebrow. "Are you _really_ just phishing for compliments?"

"What?" she snaps indignantly. She would _never_ admit to something like that because she didn't. "Why would I need a compliment from _you_?"

"I don't think you _need_ one," he replies with a quirk at the corner of his lips. "But I do think you _want_ one."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not the one phishing, Knight."

"Would it be _so_ terrible if someone else was assigned to watch me?" she asks in exasperation.

"Intimidated are you?" he asks with a sly grin.

"You wish!"

"Then you shouldn't be complaining."

"Asking a question is _not_ complaining, Prude."

"You're still not over that, eh?" he nearly bellows another of his disconcerting laughs. He had the most distorted sense of humor she has ever run across. "You know, Knight." He leans back to look at her face speculatively. "It wouldn't kill you to smile sometimes."

"And _why_ would I have a reason to smile?"

"Cause a sour expression will always waste a beautiful face."

He speaks with such blatant candor that she's struck utterly stupid and gaping at him for his compliment. How just like him too. An insult mixed in with a compliment was still an insult. Was it foolish to concentrate on the fact that he said her face was beautiful?

"Yeah well I figured if I hadn't added that in you would have barfed."

He also read minds.

"You are the strangest man I have ever had the misfortune of meeting," she says as she looks at him evenly. She can't even muster any hostility in her tone when she says it either. It was the honest truth.

He just barks another laugh, seeming very pleased that she should think so and she feels even more out of her element. Why did he never react like all the other men that she knew? It makes her feel insecure and…_shy_.

Her faces scrunches up as she thinks this.

"There's nothing for it," he says suddenly, smacking his hands against his strong thighs. "We're going out, Knight."

"Out?" she asks with a confused frown.

"Out," he repeats, standing to his full height while she remains sitting there in the chair across from him.

They had just finished a sparring session and were both heavily drenched with sweat. He, as it so obviously should have been guessed, was a fist fighter but had a few very clever tricks in his hands. That clever trick being when he brought out his huge Battle Axe (as he so affectionately called her), which was the size of her person. Again, he had outsmarted her into wearing sensible work out clothes instead of her customary armor. She still felt uneasy without the comfort of the heavy weight but she liked the increased mobility that it's absence afforded her.

While it was true that he was the one that she interacted with the most, he was not the only one. The other two male companions of Prince Noctis would come as they were working out and conversed with her. The younger, blonde one was flirty and sly and far too bothersome to be around for long. The calculating brunette with glasses always made her feel as if he knew something that she would rather he didn't. Both had been courteous and had even sparred with her a few times, but she was always left with _this_ one in the end. While the others made her feel wary, uncomfortable and mildly irritated, _he _tossed her off balance every time.

"Off to the showers, Knight!" he orders, with a loud clap of his large hands. "Then we'll be on our way."

"On our way where?" she asks, eying him skeptically. Nothing good for _her_, would come out of that look on his face.

"To the torture chamber, of course."

Her reaction is a roll of her eyes. Then startles at herself for doing it when she realizes that she _knows_ he's only in jest. That he was only teasing her. When did she start becoming attuned to his humor? She internally berates herself as they both walk towards the shower facilities.

Last week, when she had finally conceded to wearing his frumpy clothes, she had defiantly stripped down to absolutely nothing right in front of him. She had expected him to gape at her and get her own back in when his eyes clouded over with lust. Which greatly dampened her self esteem to see neither from him. He had eyed her nude form in an assessing manner and had merely quirked an eyebrow as if silently asking her what she thought this was proving. Then he had nodded towards the clothing on the bed and sat back, staring challengingly into her eyes. Those same eyes had not strayed from hers again either.

There she had stood. She had been naked as the day she had been born and he had only given her body a cursory glance and a gesture to hurry and get on with the dressing. Any other man would have tackled her to the ground and tried to have his way with her in reaction. Him? He had acted as if the sight of a naked woman were nothing new to him. He had not even oogled at her abundant breasts. She had felt positively _deflated_ by his obvious lack of interest towards her as a woman. The indifference had stung more than her defeat at Prince Noctis' hand.

As they walk towards the showers, he gives her a nod before making his way to his side. Leaving her to ponder over the fact that while she had never been uncomfortable with nudity, she was no longer as self assured about it now. She feels downright awkward. Which isn't helped by the fact that he also has no qualms about his nudity either. With his back to her, he strips confidently and walks into his shower stall without even a glance in her direction. He hadn't even tried to look at her the other few times before either. There was no reason he should not find her attractive. She was not lacking or deficient in any way. What was wrong with him?

Shaking her head vigorously, at the turn of her thoughts, she races into her own stall without even waiting for the water to adjust from cold to warm. Serves her right for even feeling hurt by his lack of interest. She rushes though the washing so she can already be dressed by the time he sauntered out. Yes, it was foolish to try and hide her body when he had already seen all of her, but his blasé attitude about it made her _want_ to hide it. She was prepared to throw her clothes back on except…

"_What_ is this?" she demands angrily.

"For a woman, you're really clueless about fashion," he comments with a befuddled expression.

"I _know_ what this is, you dolt!" she snaps. "What I want to know is why my clothes are missing and have been replaced with _this_?"

"After a shower, you _wanted_ to put your stinky clothes back on?" he asks, looking even more confused by her outburst.

"Just who in Etro's name, do you think you are to take such liberties with me?" she demands angrily. She waves the garment at him accusingly.

"Maybe I like seeing you all pissed off," he counters with a smirk.

"You're a sadist."

"Nah," he says with a snort. "I don't get off on pissing you off. I just like you better all fiery."

"I do not like you at all."

He merely makes a humming noise, but the smirk never leaves his face.

"You're a very complicated woman," he says, tilting his head to the side as if the new angle would help him understand her. "You complain about frumpy clothes one instant, stripping yourself to show me just how much you hate it. Then you get all bashful on me afterwards. Now you're standing there buck naked again, railing at me, not at all bashful again. You really gotta make up your mind, Knight."

Of course her eyes look down and realize that he is right. She is sure her breasts were also bouncing with each indignant word that had rushed out of her mouth a moment ago.

"You plan on going out au naturale?" he asks,. He sounds so bland, as if he didn't care either way and therefore broke her out of her stupor.

She had been standing here, all on display for him and he had carried on as if nothing was amiss. It makes her feel like at least crossing an arm over her breasts, but stubbornly refuses to give him the satisfaction of her embarrassment. Her eyes stray to where she had found the dress and spies the lingerie that had been left with it. The sight of them has her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Don't get off my arse," she hisses, pointing at the matching bra and knickers set before glaring at him accusingly. "Those are awfully provocative to wear under such a plain frock. Does the thought of knowing that they are underneath this drab thing get you off?"  
>"I didn't pick the <em>unmentionables<em> nor the _frock_," he answers bluntly. "You can thank Stella for providing both. Plus the shoes."

The Princess of Tenebrae. She had seen the other woman a couple of times in passing. Though they had not really conversed, the Princess had always smiled at her kindly. It puzzled her that she could be so… _cheerful_ and gracious all the time. The world they came from was neither and yet, Princess Stella seemed to attain such a positive disposition regardless. She could almost admire the Princess for it if she wasn't so confused about _how _the Princess could be that way. Being around these people forced her to realize what had never occurred to her before. Just how socially inept she was. She had never had any opportunity to think on it. She was in over her head here.

Making sure to huff indignantly a little loudly, she makes a fuss about dressing herself. From the corner of her eye, she notices that he's turned to dress himself as well. His continued indifference to her feminine wiles rankled as much as it hurt her. But why would it hurt at all? It was not like she cared whether he found her attractive or not. She rolls her eyes at herself as she zips up the light, flowy summer dress (so unlike anything she had ever worn before) and quickly steps into the delicate sandals meant to be worn with it. Without waiting for him, she steps out into the main platform for sparring and sees Prince Noctis and Princess Stella engaged in a duel. Neither notice her presence, being totally enthralled with the other.

As she watches them, with him engaging while she defends and then vice versa, she's struck by how beautiful their movements are. This was not just sword play. It was not even really practice. The object seemed not to defeat the other, but it was a dance of courtship instead. She watches the deep, intense way in which the Prince gazes at the Princess and feels a strange tugging sensation in her chest at what it implies.

This is so far beyond foreign territory for her. She had never practiced for the simple satisfaction of it. Hers had always been for training, for working, for pushing her body longer and harder to build up her endurance. Theirs, however, was something akin to playful, flirtatious and she feels very strangely while watching them.

"They're a sight, aren't they."

Her eyes cannot be compelled to look away to see his face but she responds, "I've never seen anything like this before."

"Me neither," he admits, which _does_ have her looking at him then, in surprise.

"You haven't?"

"He shakes his head. "You don't find a pair like that every day."

Which meant that _he_ has never found someone to play with in this way. An unwelcome sense of satisfaction fills her at the knowledge.

"They should not like each other," she states flatly. She continues to stare at them once more.

"No, but that doesn't stop the feeling."

"What feeling?"

He chuckles at her obtuseness. "_Love_, Knight," he answers softly, turning to watch the Prince and Princess too. "You can't stop love."

Love. Was it really so formidable? So, unstoppable? Was it really an opponent one could not beat? She feels a rush of self loathing for the queer hint of hope that had lit at the thought instead of feeling repulsion at such a weakness.

She was slipping. She was slipping into very dangerous territory. Very dangerous indeed.


	23. Magus

**Prompt: **#44 Magick

**Summary: **Powers weren't supernatural, _this_ was.

**A/N: **The Dragon Knight series.

Magus is Latin for, "magical".

_**Magus**_

As they got older and as they trained longer and grew stronger, they considered themselves "pretty frakkin' awesome", as Pro would say. Their powers not only finely tuned, but they were also specially enhanced to, not only their bodies, but the way that they thought. It defined who they were as individuals, not just as a group to represent the Kingdom. While he didn't like putting his talents on display for all to see, he made sure that when the necessity arose, he was a formidable force to be reckoned with. But no matter how extensively he worked to perfect his own special set of strengths, he had always known that Noct would surpass them all. He just prayed that when they did, that Noct would survive it. Noct's powers were always more sporadic because it took more out of him to control them. As Noct grew stronger, it quickly became apparent that he would soon be matchless. He had looked forward to that day, but he wasn't ready for it to come so soon.

Maybe that was the gods plan all along. To test an individual to see if they were worthy of such a marvelous gift. Noct's crystal levels hit to spiking levels at a time when he couldn't keep his emotions in check. His head was not always in the game, because he was still so young. He kept pushing and pushing in an attempt to prove himself when Ignis thought he didn't need to. No matter how badly Noct was tempted, Noct had him to help get a grip on himself. Losing your father wasn't something that was easy and of course, that was when Noct started spiking. This is when his own training came into play. No matter if his prince wanted to hear it or not, he gave the wisest counsel he could offer him. Even as hotheaded as Noct could be at times, he was still someone you could admire. Because he did listen, even though he did so begrudgingly at times and he _did_ admire the man who would be his king.

The people hissed approvingly, that what they could do was wrong. That magic was wrong. That it was something to be feared and shunned, not revered. Because, they said it, was supernatural and dark. They must have missed the memo. The world, itself, was dark. Evil was closer than a next door neighbor and without people like them, there wouldn't be anything to stand in the way of that real evil from taking over. In no way did they ever abuse their powers, no matter how tempting. They weren't a bunch of misfits, trying to cause a ruckus. They were trying to _save_ the people. Besides, their powers were more second nature to them, so there was nothing super or other worldly about it. Not in their view of the world anyway.

Magic wasn't what they could do because more than not, others could do similar things. _That_ was natural to them. Not the other way around. What was weird was not being able to do the things that they could. What he _does_ think is supernatural is what causes the current look on Noct's face and aura right now. _That_ was something that seemed not of this world.

"Dude, you could light a street with that glowy look on your face," comments Pro.

"Jealousy is not a good color for you," retorts Noct smugly.

"What makes you think I'd be jealous?"

"You have a strange greenish tint on your face."

"Maybe cause all this mushy stuff is making me nauseous!"

Noct gives him a cheek grin in reply.

"Not even a little embarrassed," remarks Glad with a small smile of approval at how Noct looks.

Noct looks more loose, at ease. In a way that he hasn't seen in a long time. Not since they were kids.

"Why should I be?" asks Noct.

"Where can I get one too?" Pro demands teasingly.

"We're all gonna turn into saps soon," groans Glad, looking at Noct a little accusingly. "You're probably contagious."

"Are you sure you haven't caught it already?" he asks.

Glad looks alarmed and a little uneasy at the question. Which gets his mind running through possible reasons. It's at that moment that they both seem to recall what he had said before, at the onset of this.

"Okay, what was that look about just now?" demands Pro.

"Do you think that is what you felt?" Glad asks, ignoring Pro's question.

"What? What are you two talking about?"

"Ignis had one of his _feelings_, remember?" prompts Noct.

"Refresh my memory."

"Do we really have to have a group discussion about this?" groans Glad impatiently.

"We do if it means she is a danger to you," Noct answers firmly.

He nods in agreement to that.

"You think she's going to stab me in the back one day?"

"Nah," Pro blurts out breezily. "She has too much of the hots for you to do that."

"_What_?" the three of them bark out at the same time.

Pro doesn't seem phased at all and only offers a shrug. "Just what I said."

He blinks at Glad for a better explanation.

"Knight would rather flay me alive," Glad replies with a snort.

Pro blows a raspberry. "Yeah, you keep telling yourself that buddy. I think you've got the hots just as badly as she does," he points out baldly. "Why try to hide it anyway? She's frakkin' _hawt_ herself!"

Glad frowns at him as if _he_ knew the answer to that.

"I just had a feeling. Nothing specific and I certainly wouldn't have thought of _that_."

"You know, I can see it," comments Noct with a thoughtful expression. "Both of your behavior makes more sense now."

Glad scratches his head, but he notices that his friend hasn't denied any of this either. Which makes him wonder.

"So I was right," he says, as he looks at the uneasy expression on his friend's roughened features. "She was on that ship when I felt it. _She's_ what I felt."

"And you said you weren't really psychic," comments Glad with a smirk.

"I'm intuitive. They're not the same thing."

"Hey! Why the secrecy? You've been holding out the details!" accuses Pro to Glad.

"Nothing to tell," shrugs Glad. "So there's no secret."

Somehow he doubts that, but he keeps that remark to himself.

"Would you rather we rotated who watched her from now on?" offers Noct quietly.

Glad's eyes blaze with intense possessiveness until he realizes that the suggestion is probably the wisest course for all of them right now. They might have welcomed the Dragon Knight into their midst, but that didn't mean they completely trusted her just yet.

"Maybe that's a good idea," concedes Glad, finally.

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder," quips Pro with a sly grin.

"Don't get any ideas," growls Glad.

"Me? Ideas? Have no idea what that means," Pro quirks back.

"This spells trouble," murmurs Noct.

"Hey, I'm not a total idiot."

"Not total, but _most_ of the time, yeah."

"Every village needs one!"

Yeah. They all know Pro only _pretended_ to be the idiot.

"Okay, then Pro, you get the first day. Starting today," orders Noct. "I believe now is the time to go fetch her."

"Right on it!" cries Pro with a mock salute and a wink at Glad before sauntering off.

"Knight will flay _him_ alive if he doesn't watch himself," mutters Glad, but there is no real worry in his voice.

"It would be better if she got to know all of us anyway," he remarks with a shrug. He wasn't looking forward to his turn to play watch dog, but since Pro had dropped that bomb on them, he was curious to speak to her.

"If she kills me, she kills me," Glad says, looking at him and Noct seriously. "Would serve me right for letting my guard down if it happened."

"Stranger things have happened," he replies.

He and Noct exchange a look.

"You guys aren't going to try and protect me now, are you?"

They would never insult him like that.

"As you said," he replies. "If you were stupid enough to let that happen then, that's on you."

The tension in Glad's shoulders loosen but he still looks uncertain. It's a weird thing to see on his face when he was always the more self assured of them.

"This spells more than trouble," Noct repeats sardonically.

"This is definitely a _spell_," he adds in.

First Noct and now Glad. He's already noticed the changes in both of them, but he hadn't associated Glad's change to the Knight. This was more big news. This was a truly powerful thing.

And they said their _abilities_ were magic. He would beg to differ.


	24. Spero

**Prompt: **#28 Hope

**Summary: **One step at a time. That, was progress.

**A/N: **The Distortion Series

Spero is Latin for, "to hope for; hope".

_**Spero**_

"You mind running that by me again, Stell?" asks Prompto, a few silent moments after her shocking revelation.

"The man with the black helmet,who never shows his face. That you call Erebus," she clarifies. "_He_ is really Noctis."

"How did you get that?" asks Gladiolus.

"We would have known though," argues Prompto.

"I didn't," Ignis points out bluntly, in that abrupt, matter of fact way of his. "You guys didn't either and that was probably because we were too caught up in what was going down instead of stopping to wonder about something like that."

When the other two simply look at him blankly, he goes on.

"We weren't looking for anything so we didn't _see_ anything."

Prompto and Gladiolus both frown as they obviously think this over, but neither offer an argument to counter his statement.

"What gave it away to you, Stella?" Ignis asks her gently, directing the attention back to her.

She lets out a breathe as she tries to recall all of her reasons in order.

"I suppose it was a collection of things," she replies after a short while. "When the one that is impersonating Noctis spoke, his voice was all wrong." She shakes her head because that does not make any sense. "Not his voice itself, but the tone of voice that he used. His manner of speech was not even close. He did not speak at all like Noctis does. The accent was even a little different and the feelings behind it were like someone else was inhabiting his body."

She watches as the three of them process this. They must be thinking back to their own past experiences with the imposter.

"What else?" prompts Gladiolus after a moment.

Ignis and Prompto do not refute nor agree with her assessment either so she moves on to her next reason.

"Intuition, mostly," she responds. "My, _awareness_, was never triggered by Erebus either. I had to actually activate it consciously instead of it responding instinctively. When I had been in the same room as the imposter, I admit, I was so overcome that I did not think he was a fake. My emotions overruled my judgment when I was up close, but now that I think on it, I did not get a very good look at the imposter's face at all."

She tries to picture a clear glimpse but fails.

"He was always veiled in shadow. I was only able to see the color of his eyes, which were red, but Noctis' eyes did the same when he was agitated," she thinks aloud for their sake. "I was attracted to Erebus too and I could not understand why."

"Attracted?" asks Prompto with a frown.

"I cannot describe it," she tries to explains. "But I felt more curious about him than revolted. After all that I had of him by those who had tried to come here to Nihilsomno, I had expected to hate him on sight. But I could not."

"Women's intuition. Gotta love it," marvels Ignis. "Please go on, Stella."

"What cemented it for me was when we dueled in the arena," she says. "It was the exact same fight we had when... well, when we fought that one time."

They all knew of what time she spoke of. All three of them nod and then look contemplative as they are reminded about this. It had been the one time, while they had been trying to save their respective kingdoms, that she had challenged Noctis into fighting her. It was not the best memory to recall for her, but she can still see the hesitation that had been on his face at the time. Had seen the torn expression that had revealed that he _had_ felt something for her.

"I felt as if I was suffering through deja vu," she tells. "He moved exactly the same as he had in that fight."

"Do you think he has begun to remember?" asks Ignis.

Begun. Because he had been losing his memory, slowly, from their explanation of events. Had it really been Noctis or the imposter then?

"If Noct's been Erebus the entire time... what does that mean?" asks Prompto.

"That's what we're going to find out," vows Gladiolus as he leans forward to rest his elbows on the tops of his thighs.

"For whatever reason Noct is hiding behind that helmet, we have to figure out if he remembers us," Ignis says, then he looks at her. "Do you think he remembers, Stella?"

"I cannot say for sure," she says in wary frustration. "But he hesitated when he could have killed me. As if he had been feeling deja vu as well. He had seemed confused."

Not that she had helped any by trying to touch his helmet covered face, she thinks. That thought, she was not going to say aloud.

"It's too dangerous and delicate a situation to just assume," remarks Ignis, his eyes taking on that calculating look that meant he was thinking of various solutions. When his eyes look at her again, they seem to notice something. "But it looks like you've had enough for now, Stella. You look exhausted and there's nothing more we can do tonight."

"You are right," she agrees with a tired sigh. With the adrenaline gone, she is feeling the exhaustion settling over her.

"Here," says Prompto, as he hands her a steaming mug. "I'm sure you're hungry too, but this will tide you over until after you've had some shut eye first."

"Thank you, Pro," she says, taking the offered mug and sipping it carefully. It was soupy in texture and very aromatic too. It was surprisingly relaxing. As she tries to stand, she staggers on her feet a bit until a body offers to support her.

"Off we go then, Stella," Ignis says, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"Good night to you both," she murmurs to Prompto and Gladiolus. Then she and Ignis begin walking towards a dark, narrow hallway. "You cannot know how happy it makes me that you have all been well."

"We're glad you joined the party, Stell," jokes Prompto as a parting farewell. "Sleep tight."

"Don't let the bed bugs bite," finishes Gladiolus with a chuckle.

Then Ignis is half leading and half carrying her down the long hall.

"How did you find this place?" she manages to marvel tiredly.

"You know me," he replies. "Always finding things that nobody else can."

She chuckles at his wry tone. It had always been something that she liked to tease him about. When she got the courage to, since he was so serious, that is. Her soft laughter dies as they slowly move along and her head finds a place to rest on his shoulder.

"Do you really think I can help bring him back?" she asks hopefully.

"I know you will, Stella," Ignis answers, in that confident way that sounded so sure that you could not doubt it either. "I think he must have been unconsciously waiting for you."

She is not sure how to respond to that. It had been a wishful thought that he might be, but it was too wistful to actually believe. Right now her brain might be screaming for rest, she has one final thing to say to Ignis, so she is thankful that it is him that is walking her to her room now. She wants to tell him, but she does not want to insult him when he might have already thought of what she wants to suggest.

"Out with it," he says and she has to smile at his usual acute awareness of things.

"I want to run something by you, but I know it will be silly."

He snorts as they finally make it to a small room.

"There are plenty of rooms here so guest rooms are a plenty," he explains. "And you forget that it doesn't matter what it is, silly or not. Just ask me."

"It will mean another sleepless night for you," she worries.

He scoffs this time. "I don't sleep most nights anyway, you know that. Even more so these last few years. So tell me what you're thinking so _you_ can get some sleep."

She has missed that bossy, older brother tone from him. Having not had one of her own, his commanding tone had always made her feel like she belonged. It was obvious that he only spoke so much to those he cared about. They have all made her feel cared for in their own way and she has missed _that_ too. Without letting go of her, Ignis pulls back the covers of the bed and sits her down. Then he kneels in front of her so that they are eye level. When he merely waits and looks at her expectantly, she lets out another chuckle.

"It might be useless to mention, but you said that the behemoth's blood had been all over Noctis that night and then he had gotten cut as well."

"Are you thinking that maybe the behemoth's blood must have been infected with something?"

She makes a sleepy sound of agreement.

"But after all this time, it's impossible to know."

"No, it's not," he says. "I froze the bits I could salvage in cryo."

Her heart immediately lightens and she feels a rush of excitement. "You are such a genius I could kiss you in thanks."

"And make us both uncomfortable afterward," he quirks with an amused smirk. Then shrugs the suggestion off passively, but she can tell that he is pleased with her excitement. "So getting a little bit of DNA from the behemoth will not be a problem."

"Have you tested it before?"

"I hadn't thought to," he answers giving her a wry glance. "Until you just mentioned your theory."

"We are going to have to get a sample of Noctis' blood too, to prove that it was from the behemoth that caused all this," she says hesitantly.

"We'll think about it when we get to that," he reassures her. He gets to his feet and points to the pillows beside her on the bed. "No more thinking now, Stella. I'll take a look at what we do have and see if we can at least rule it out."

She yawns beneath her hand before removing her shoes and then tugging off the scratchy wig from her head. Oh, but it feels good to take that synthetic hair off at last.

"Stella, what made you think of the behemoth?" Ignis asks curiously.

"They usually avoid the city," she replies. "Which means that someone purposely set it loose to lure Noctis. Injecting it with something to incapacitate him makes sense."

"I'm going to get right on it," Ignis promises again. "Another pair of eyes always _was _the best thing to do in these kinds of situations." Then he makes his way over to the door to leave her.

"Ignis," she calls, before he can close the door.

He looks at her questioningly as he pauses in the doorway.

"Do you think me mad for thinking that Erebus is Noctis?"

"I think you're the genius for seeing beyond the surface," he says bluntly.

"I am so tired and yet still so restless," she whines, not allowing herself to take his admiration to heart. She was not a genius or else she would have realized it sooner and not wasted time gaping.

"You've found the real Noct, Stella," he says. "That's something to put you at ease."

"Isn't it a little to early to hope?"

"Never," he answers with a shake of his head. "When I saw you on the feeds, it was the first time I actually did feel hope."

She smiles with watery eyes at that.

"One step at a time," he instructs. "And we're one step closer with each one."

"I like that."

"Me too," he replies. "Take those thoughts with you and rest. I'll make sure the guys know to wake you when I get any results."

"Thank you. Good night, Ignis."

"Night," he says, closing the door and leaving her alone with her thoughts.

One step at a time. One step closer now.

As she settles herself onto the bed, the last image in her mind is of Noctis' face. Warm and caring and everything that, that imposter's face had not been. She would get him back. They would _all_ get him back. She was beginning to hope that they would succeed once more.


	25. Exussum

**Prompt: **#16 Burn

**Summary: **His words had the power to set fire to her senses.

**A/N: **Continuing from Quasso.

Exussum is Latin for, "to burn down, burn, set on fire".

_**Exussum**_

Not long after that parting remark and after giving her just enough time to stew a bit, he returns. It seems, he also brings a storm with him. She should have known he would make his grand entrance like a well timed play. A light sprinkle had begun to drip down and she had just prepared a scathing remark about leaving her to burn up in the residual flames from the dragon too. Only, that was not a valid argument if it was raining now. How had he known not to worry? The man was either a genius or he had impeccable timing. Having been his constant companion thus far, she can begrudgingly say that it might be that he was a genius. He seemed to have an uncanny sixth sense about things. His level of awareness was almost frightening.

She was just thinking of what other scathing remark she could hurl at him when he appears. When he does appear, however, she is too shocked to say anything at all. The picture he makes as he stands there is awe inspiring. Water streams down his face and as he reaches out a hand to her, a bolt of lightning flashes across the sky just behind him. She is dumbstruck at the sight.

That is, until he opens his mouth.

"I know I may be dashingly debonair, but this really is not the time for that, _Princess_," he remarks smugly. "Or did you want to play up your injury and have me gallantly carry you?"

She raises her chin haughtily as she gains her feet wobbly and refuses his preoffered hand.

"Has anyone ever told you that you are tolerable until you open your mouth?"

"I think you might have already mentioned something like that before," he remarks with a smirk.

"My feelings are the same."

"As are mine," he replies. "Are you ready to get out of the rain yet? Or did you want to sleep in it?"

"I am debating whether dying of hypothermia were preferable than to being in your company another night," she comments dryly.

"Easy enough a decision," he says with cheeky arrogance.

"I was leaning more towards staying out here, actually."

He quirks an eyebrow at her cheek. She expects him to get angry and let out an equally immature huff as he tells her to die for all he cared before stomping off. It would be a fitting response to her childish declaration. One that she could not blame him for responding to equally childishly. She was cold, tired, irritable and not at all in the mood to be mature.

"If that is what you want," he responds without a care either way and makes his way to a large boulder to sit lazily upon it.

"What are you doing?" she asks in disbelief.

"Maybe we can see who will succumb to the chill first," he suggests.

Of all the…

"You can not be serious!"

"As a heart attack, _Princess_," he quips.

More lightning cracks across the dark sky and the rain rushes down in watery sheets of freezing moisture. Yet, he seemed heedless and so confident as he continues to regard her evenly. He really _was_ serious.

"Why can you not just leave me behind?" she asks in weak defeat.

"I told you," he answers with a slight tsk-ing sound. "I would not want to lose my one source of entertainment."

"You would go so far as to do _this_?"

He shrugs. "Better than an empty cave for company."

"Are you mad?"

"I am not the one who would rather die than be reasonable."

"But, you are not being reasonable now."

"Why should I when you are acting like a bratty fool?"

"You make me act a fool and lose my head," she accuses.

"I thought I made you burn."

She gapes at him in embarrassed surprise. Trust him to bring up her last taunt, just to spite her.

"A passionate flame, I believe were your words," he repeats with a smug look.

She swallows because she had meant that, even though she had been only trying to get a rise out of him when she had said it.

"You do it purposely, don't you?" she asks, refusing to back down from this opening.

"What do you mean?"

"Annoy me so that I forget myself."

He does not respond but he does not stop smirking either. That is answer enough.

"You have been avoiding my questions time and again and I am sick of it. I have _been_ sick of it," she says, frustration boiling inside her as she thinks back to the countless times she has tried to get a reasonable explanation out of him, only to be diverted. "I want my answers now. It is far past time to put those games to rest."

She thought he would goad her again and stiffens her spine, ready to keep her focus on getting a straight answer this time.

"Ask what you will," is the unexpected reply.

When she looks at his face, she notes how serious it has become and relaxes. She wants to sigh in relief that he was not going to put up another fight about this. Maybe, she was going to make some progress.

"Why were you really watching me?" she asks, before she can think better of it. "You had not even been nearby when I had excused myself."

"It wounds me that you think I am not always aware," he comments dryly.

His awareness of obvious with the way he _always_ knew things, seemingly, in advance.

"Will you concede to getting under shelter if I tell you the truth?" he offers.

"Yes," she says, surprised that he would ask that of her instead of something that would get her riled up again. She is not even sure why she wants to know his real reasons. Of all the things that she wanted to ask, she would pick _that_? Yet, she really did want to know.

"It was a good opportunity to watch you candidly," he confesses.

It would have sounded like another of his snide jokes but there is not a smirk in sight.

"Why?"

He quirks an eyebrow at her as if to mention that, that was another question but he does not say so aloud.

"Because I like you, _Princess_," he tells her and the look he gives her is intent and sincere.

"You... _like_ me?" she asks in disbelief. "How can that be, when you have made it a point of letting me know just how much you despise me?"

"Have I _really_?" he poses to her.

She frowns as she thinks this over.

"Come on now," he says, standing and taking hold of her arm to get her walking. "I need to hurry and set a fire so you can stop shivering."

She realizes that he is right. She _is_ shivering, but not just from the cold. His normally leather covered hand is naked as it holds her arm gently and it is _his_ heat that sinks into her arm. He need not set another fire, she thinks. Just his words had set a blaze in her mind and his casual touch an inferno to her senses. Could it be possible that he did, indeed _like_ her? She feels her cheeks flush and a warmth seep in where she had been so cold a moment before. He affected her so powerfully that she could only describe it as, a burn. From his words, he did so because he _liked_ her? What did that mean?

He was a very complicated man.


	26. Ferox

**Prompt: **#43 Spirit

**Summary: **There was no progress without courage.

**A/N: **Distortion Series.

Ferox is Latin for, "with spirit, courageous".

_**Ferox**_

"I'm all for crazy and dangerous and even stupid plans, but I'm not comfortable with this," states Prompto.

"I'm gonna have to go with Pro on this one," agrees Gladiolus.

"Stella, are you sure?" asks Ignis. It is his way of saying he agrees with them.

This plan was all the things that Prompto had mentioned and she would be an idiot to think it was a _good_ plan. The way she saw it though, they had little choice. They had no other viable options handy. They all knew that too. At least she could say that she even _had _a plan at all.

"I am sure that it needs to be done," she says with a smile.

"That's _not_ comforting, Stell!"cries Prompto.

She pats him on the shoulder endearingly.

"What is an adventure without a little danger?" she asks.

"Yeah, that doesn't help either," groans Gladiolus, putting a hand over his eyes.

"Especially when you're talking about suicidal proportions here," comments Ignis grimly. He is looking at her in that assessing way of his. Most likely in order to determine how he can change his tactics on getting her to change her mind.

"Noct'll kill us," remarks Prompto.

"We need to bring him back to himself before that can happen," she reminds them.

"Stella, we don't _really_ need a sample," Ignis tries to reason. "That we know the behemoth was infected with something is enough."

_Something_. That was all they could call it at this time. They had no name for it because he had not been able to figure out what it was, exactly, that the behemoth had been infected with. It

"The three of you please," she sighs. "We do not need to go through this again."

What they had learned so far was this. That _this_, whatever _this_ was, apparently did not seem to effect each species the same way. The DNA provided from the samples that Ignis had saved from the Behemoth showed that while the infection had been present in its blood stream, it had not attached itself to the cells in any way. It had looked more like it had been merely sharing the space along with the other blood cells within the arteries and nothing else. It had looked like the behemoth had merely been a host for the virus' real victim. The only clue they had that it was a deliberate attempt to target Noctis was that someone had to have forced the beast to run rampant through the city. Which in turn, would no doubt bring Noctis to kill it. Ignis had even gone so far as to test his own blood by infected it with _this_ and the virus had immediately attached itself to his blood cells.

The question was, how exactly, it affected those exposed to it mentally. It did not seem to destroy but attach and alter. They were not sure how much it did alter. Noctis was not an ordinary man either, which made his blood quite unique and therefore, would cause him to react entirely differently from Ignis' and the Behemoth's blood. Which left them needing a sample to be sure and most likely finding out who the Imposter really was.

"I am going because it has to be done," she says stubbornly. "We might be able to determine who it was, that created this and then we can help Noctis recover."

"But what you're proposing to do is not just dangerous, Stella. It's suicide like Ignis said," argues Prompto.

"Why won't you let any of us do it?" asks Ignis.

"They will be looking for me anyway," she reasons. "You know that they must be hunting for me even now. Noctis as Erebus or the Imposter will want to find me. For no other reason than to demand an explanation. I will not let them find me here and be able to capture the three of you and you get yourselves killed."

"There's no need for all that," says Gladiolus. "We can take care of ourselves."

"But none of you would raise a hand against Noctis and now that you know that he must be Erebus, more so," she argues. "You have to let me do this."

"And when he catches you?" asks Ignis. It is not an if, it is when. "Because we all know that the only way you'll get a sample is by getting yourself captured."

"Put a tracking device on me," she suggests. "Then give me something to keep the samples in to leave for you somewhere."

"Who's to say if Erebus or the Imposter don't have you killed on sight?"

"That is just a chance that I am going to have to take," she says with a shrug. "But they will not kill me. It would just not be prudent to do so."

"You're thinking about when he hesitated in the arena," says Ignis.

"Yes," she replies with a nod.

"This is all kinds of _wrong_!" cries Prompto in frustration.

"I have to face him again," she pleads. "You know I have to."

"Fine, but I'm gonna play shadow," states Gladiolus in that forceful way of his. "No way I'm lying low like some frakkin' coward while you do all the gutsy stuff."

"I would appreciate the company," she says gratefully. This means that they were relenting, still guilty, but relenting just the same. Then she looks at the other two. "I am counting on the two of you to get us out of whatever predicament we will be getting into."

"Which you will," Ignis says sardonically.

"That _is_ our specialty," Prompt says morosely.

"Give me your arm then, Stella," prompts Ignis, reaching out a hand to her. He has a resigned look on his face but he has acquiesced.

She rolls up the long sleeve of her left arm and offers it to him.

With a heavy sigh and a shake of his head, he pushes back on the wheels of his chair and grabs a handheld air pressure gun from one of the many shelves around them. Then rolls to another side to grab a small chip and inserts it into the barrel.

"With this, I'll not only know where you are, I'll also know your vitals," Ignis explains. "This is gonna sting."

Sting was a tame way of putting it. There is a very sharp, stabbing pain. Much more painful than having a thick needle puncture through her pale skin and she lets out an involuntary yelp in reaction. She gazes down at the small indentation in her forearm, where the tracking device is not lodged under her skin and barely repressed the urge to scratch.

"You too," Ignis signals to Gladiolus for his own tracking device. After quickly sterilizing the tip of the gun, he inserts one into his friend's arm too.

Gladiolus grunts and tightens his fist but does not offer a curse, which means it was not _that_ unbearable. She has a hysterical urge to gigle at the unusual measurement for pain but manages to stifle it before either of the friends notice.

"You're also gonna wear these communicators," says Prompto, handing her a small ear piece, before handing a similar one to Gladiolus.

She watches Ignis fiddle around on the shelves again before pulling down a small vial and handing it to her.

"There are two compartments in here," he explains briefly and showing her how it was to be done. "For each sample."

"How long will it take you to get the results?"

"I've already got Noct's medical reports on file," answers Ignis. "A couple hours, max to know for sure who is who but it's gonna take a lot longer to figure out what this thing is."

She nods, guessing that already but they would know the crucial stuff at once. Then a strong sense of unease fills her as she takes the small tubing from Ignis. An indescribable feeling that she will not like what they find out from them.

"Are you ready?" asks Ignis.

"Are you sure?" asks Prompto.

She offers them an encouraging smile.

"I did not come all this way to hide," she chides. "I came to get answers and this is how I will get them."

"All right," says Ignis, after a moment. He opens his arms and embraces her. "Keep in touch."

"Yes," she agrees, trying to keep her voice steady.

"This is _so _not a good idea," comments Prompto, as he gives her a hug too. "You're making us look bad with all this proactive stuff."

"You merely did all the grueling prep work," she teases with a wink, before donning the hood of her cloak once more.

"Darn right," he says, offering her a wink back and a cheeky grin.

Then it was show time. Walking cautiously, she and Gladiolus make their way into a secret shaft that would take them into a deserted alley about two blocks from the castle. It was dark and murky with the amplified sounds of water slowly dripping drop by precarious drop, as they walk silently along. Here there were no Crystal lights.

"This is a very large shaft," she comments, careful not to let her voice carry.

"It's an old sewer main," explains Gladiolus.

From the lack of putrid stench that usually remained in a sewer, it must have been a long while since it has been shut off. Only...

"It does not look that old," she remarks.

"Old's a relative term, I guess," he answers with a smirk in his voice. "We had a few very large projects in production just before... you know, the war and the new sewer main was complete by the time Noct was taking over, leaving this one abandoned as the waters were diverted to the new one. Stench is gone cause of our... efforts."

She smiles at his last remark, thinking over how difficult it must have been to do such a task. "There were other projects? Were they diverse projects or were they all about sanitation purposes?" she asks curiously.

"A few," he replies as he seems to think this over. "This main was supposed to be deeper, but for some reason the original developers never went any further. If you travel in the other direction, you'll hit where the original diggers left off."

"Gladiolus," she calls, coming to a stop. "Did you guys have any idea _where_ Noctis was, when he would disappear?"

She can hear his own steps falter as the insinuation kicks in. Noctis would not have gone into hiding anywhere he knew the other three would find him.

"You think he might have been underground?" he asks.

There is silence for a long moment, with the lone dripping sounds echoing in the shaft.

"Stella, what are you thinking?" Ignis' voice carries over the communicator. "Do you think he found something down there?"

"He might have, but that still does not explain the behemoth."

"This shaft ends on a dead end,"says Gladiolus. "I'm sure cause I've checked."

"How is the new one functioning?"

"A few parts have seen cave-ins further along the shaft."

"One thing at a time folks," Ignis says finally. "We don't have enough man power to check out both right now."

"Right you are," she agrees, shaking her head to stop her racing thoughts in that direction.

"It's just up ahead, Stella," says Gladiolus.

"Coast clear," says Prompto, before Gladiolus lifts the large metal lid aside and helps her jump up and out of the shaft.

The alley is slicked with slippery, dirty water and high industrial trash bins tower on either side. As they said, it was deserted. They look like they have been neglected for some time. A quick look above her shows no lights glowing behind the filthy windows. It truly was abandoned here. As she peers towards the open street, she notices that even there, it is as eerily empty as they had been the night before. There were not many walking about and no car traffic to speak of.

"Do they have the games every night?" she asks as they check both ways before walking out onto the sidewalk.

"No, but people try to stay away from the castle. Especially at night," Gladiolus says ominously. He pauses just before they can be sighted from the castle and she quickly makes sure that her hood is on properly. "Stella, what is your plan exactly?"

"Besides keeping up good spirits and keeping my courage as well?" she tries to joke.

"We're gonna need more than that," he mumbles.

"I trust you know how to break into the castle without being seen," she suggests.

"It's not the entering that's the problem," says Gladiolus with a frown. "It's the getting back out part that's what I'm worried about."

"Well, we always did do better when faced with a challenge," she says with a smile.

"I'm gonna have a heart attack," mutters Prompto over the comm.

"Not before me," Ignis mumbles in reply.


	27. Amitto

**Prompt: **#12 Lose

**Summary: **He could easily become what they feared he would be.

**A/N: **The Undead Series.

Amitto is Latin for, "dismiss; send or slip away; lose".

_**Amitto**_

One would think that since he was accustomed to pain, there was not much that could really torture him anymore. The agony that he has suffered at the hands of those that would annihilate he and his kind, had been numerous. It had been a test of his will and his endurance, but to him, the memory of pains past suffered were never as sharp as when they had been received. One can recall how the sensation had affected them but there was no duplication of the exact degree, the pain had been afflicted with. For most, it is simply the memory that is enough to paralyze them and turn them away. It is the _reminder_ of the pain that scares them. It could be from sights and sounds that trigger the remembrance of such and the natural reaction is to get away as far as possible so as not to experience it again.

Though, considering the life he has lived and the death he had survived, he does not shy away at just the memory of pains long suffered. He has no time for that. The promise or threat of another torture session did not induce a sense of panic, as it would someone else. That, he can deal with and does frequently deal with. Life was pain and to have anything else meant you were dead. That is why when he had started to become numb, he had known that it was time for him to act.

What he cannot withstand is not the pain, but the _screams_. Those screams that were not his own either. As much as he had relished the sounds when he had killed the ones that had held him captive, another part cringed and coward. Their intention had been to watch as he dangled there like a hunted beast, as the life drained away from him. They had used him as a lab rat in an effort to help them kill he and the rest of the Undead. Not only just killing them, but doing so with the most inhumane death that they could possibly come up with. No, they had deserved to die and die as gruesomely as he could deliver to them. That had not been his issue. If anything he thought that they had died too quickly for the sins they had committed. Still, it was the _sounds_ of their screams that he cannot stomach. For those sounds could easily come from the lips of those he loved too. From those that made him feel human. From those that kept him _feeling_ human. These prejudicial minions were more like monsters than the Undead were reported to be. All the Undead wanted was to live and live in peace, but no, they are forced into hiding or otherwise subjected to suffering at these monsters' hands.

What these real monsters had not counted on in regards to him, as they watched his chain slung body bleed onto their metal floor, was that the poison they had expected would kill him, had been leaking out along with his blood. Too busy being so proud of themselves, that they had not even noticed that the sounds of his dripping life blood sounded too solid as it hit the floor. It had been the reason he had exerted himself so strenuously, pushing the poison out, before forcing his body to go limp. He had played the dying animal with a last rebellious roar, before releasing his energies and slumping lamely in midair. His slowed heart rate gave the appearance of death and it had been enough. It had been enough to fool them. For, they _had_ been fooled and they had paid dearly for that.

It could either be considered perfect timing or bad, that his faithful friends had chosen that moment to conduct their rescue of him. Their rescue, which had also included burning down the facility that imprisoned him. Normally, he would have approved of the action. Only this time, this time it was a hindrance instead. He had killed those scientists that had come in to observe his corpse first hand, but the one he had _really_ wanted, had gotten away. The one who had spear headed the endless pain that he had suffered, had escaped. The fire that had spread wildly and explosively through the compound had provided an easy exit to elude him.

When his initial rage of disappointment had subsided, he reasons that it was probably for the best that he had not killed him just then. Yes, it would have been a beginning of an end to the experiments, but it would not have helped them find all the other similar laboratories to find others that had been captured. He also reasons that, in a way, he had been saved when the opportunity had passed him. For, within that moment, when he had sprung, he had taken in the terrified faces of the ones that would fall victim to him. Their screams of horror had brought him back from the madness that had gripped him so tightly. He had lost a little of his humanity in that moment. He had thrust it aside in his thirst for vengeance.

It was the sounds of those screams that would haunt him for the rest of his life. Screams that could easily be from his friends, from the people that he had taken responsibility of and, from Stella. Her screaming in such a way would kill whatever had not died before. He could not let that happen to her and he could not let the madness take over. For, if it did happen, he would become just like _him_.

* * *

><p><strong>End Note: <strong>Prompt title will sound familiar to some readers. There's a chapter in The Eclipse Series with the same name. :)

I would also like to thank **Xan** for the encouraging review (you don't have a login so I can't reply with a PM). It really means a lot to hear such inspiring words and really gives me that added push to keep going.


	28. Mendacin

**Prompt: **#10 Lie

**Summary: **Sometimes it is the easiest way.

**A/N: **The Dragon Knight series.

Mendacin is Latin for, "a lie".

_**Mendacin**_

"Okay, I'll bite," he says in exasperation.

Good. The no good bastard deserved a little frustration and for once, she would have the upper hand.

"You gonna tell me what the silent treatment is all about?" he asks.

Not that it would do any good for him to ask. In the last few days that she had not been graced with his presence, she has learned an invaluable tool.

Silence.

"What are we, in grade school?" he asks, trying to get a rise out of her, but she will not "bite" as he so eloquently put it.

She merely carries on with her not really reading, reading. The book has been open in her lap ever since he had stepped through the door and he does not have to know that she has not read a single word off the pages since. The last few days, it seems, that he had taken a holiday from her and had his friends play nursemaid to the wayward Dragon Knight. After the almost pleasant afternoon that they had spent together walking through the city. Once she had resigned herself to putting on that summer frock and torn her eyes away from the bewitching sight of the Prince and Princess dueling together, he had led her past the castle gates and onto the sidewalk to join the other commoners on the street. At the time, she had thought it a test to see whether she would try and escape his clutches, but it had quickly become apparent that while he had been cautious of that option, he had not tried to restrain her from doing so.

Very odd man.

The rest of the afternoon had seen them getting lost amongst the crowds and giving her a different view of the city that she had learned to despise. Despise for its showy opulence. She still felt indignant to see how well off, even the lesser of the citizens fared compared to those in her own country. What right had they to be so well taken care of when other countries suffered so? They were horders is what they were, with no consideration for others. She said as much too.

Still, after awhile despite herself, she had found herself enjoying the sights and peering through the many shop windows. He had even made her eat this creamy icy concoction that was too dense to be ice cream but reminded her of it just the same. She would never admit to the fact that the day had been warm and the summer frock a good choice. While glancing into one store window, she had caught sight of her reflection and frozen. The woman that had stared back at her had not looked like herself. Wearing a dress had given her a softer more prettily feminine look, rather than the usual dark and sexy that she has always preferred. She had not recognized herself and had felt shame at change in such a short period of time. Shame and a tiny bit of appreciation too. It was the appreciation that filled her with more shame, which had only worsened her mood.

When they had returned to the castle, she had been irritable and vicious to her guard. Even going so far as to snap at him for making her _suffer_ through an afternoon with him instead of just keeping her where she preferred, in her room. True to form, he had taken it all in stride and snorted (actually snorted!) at her unsavory remarks about the blatant decadence of the city. He even made sure to feed her, her supper and bade her a good night. An early night too, since it had only been around 6pm when he taken her back to her room. Leaving her too much time pacing to and fro in the small space trying to remember everything she had been taught to hate about Nihilsomno. The Wise One would surely know that she had been spared by now and would be wondering why she was not valiantly trying to finish her mission.

By the time morning came, she had sorted out all her thoughts and was ready to lay it into the bullying beast, only to be greeted cheerfully by the bushy haired blonde with the rifle. She had been so surprised at his appearance instead of the Brute that she had promptly forgotten all the venomous things she had rehearsed. Not that she could have gotten a word in edge wise. The scoundrel filled the time with his constant blathering. At least Brute had given her moments of silence as he'd look at her like a puzzling equation. Not that one. He'd been a cheeky bastard, making outrageous insinuations that she hadn't the foggiest what he had been on about. More than once he'd looked at her with a wide grin and his messy hair all askew. But where the Brute had always left her reeling by some off handed observation, the blonde had not. Not at all. Leaving her with the impression that not all Nihilsomno citizens could read her so well. For that, at least, she could be glad.

All until Cheeky had, had the gall to try flirting with her. Flirting! As if it were perfectly acceptable to fraternize with her, the enemy. The only good thing she could say about Cheeky was that he was a very good shot. They had spent the majority of their day at the range. She was more proficient with a blade and preferred one over a gun, but the booming sounds of fired rounds was good enough of a reason for her to blot out the running commentary from Cheeky. That and she had, had a good practice as well. It had not struck her until afterwards that it would have been an ideal opportunity to shoot him instead and had been absolutely terrified to realize the thought had never crossed her mind. What was wrong with her?

The day after that had seen _another_ babysitter to look after her. The one who knew too much, had come to fetch her instead of Cheeky or the Brute. He had greeted her almost formally and spoke about as little as Cheeky had spoken too much. She had not known what to make of him (still doesn't) and had mentally rebuked herself on her utter lax in studying the companions as well as she had the Prince. Not that _any_ of that had actually helped, considering the Prince had surprised her completely by being competent when she had thought he wasn't at all. If it hadn't been for that, she wouldn't be left in this disastrous position of staying in their company. That is, until the time of the next attack. Of which would be soon. Then perhaps, she could finally get away from the Brute and Observer's all seeing eyes. With Observer's eyes and lack of blabbered ramblings, she had discovered the power of silence. That and a few clever maneuvers with a saber.

Every comment she had ever uttered, every scathing, hateful remark she had hurled, had only given Brute further fodder against her. So, the only way to beat him would be to say nothing at all. It wasn't like her insults ever actually offended him. So why bother? Any inquiry or remark regarding his abandonment of her, would give him reason to think she had taken a shine to him. Which she hadn't. Definitely had not. Had _absolutely_ not. She'd been _for_ his absence anyway, having grilled him on the subject already. Truly, it had been a relief to be away from him and his candid and unwanted observations about her person.

"Ah," the Brute remarks as if he's solved the gist of things.

She merely turns the page of her book with a sniff of nonchalance and does not look up.

"I think I got it now, Knight," he continues on. Not at all hindered that she hadn't responded to him in the first place. "You missed me."

"HA!" she shouts, before she can think to snap her mouth shut. The reaction is, even to herself, condemningly rapid and she has an urge to bury her face in the book with a groan.

"You did," he replies matter of factly, as if her response had been an affirmative.

Which it hadn't.

_Presumptuous sod._

"Because if you didn't, you wouldn't be so pissed off right now," he finishes.

Pissed off? She had been completely indifferent to him as soon as he had walked in!

"That warms my heart, Knight," he says, almost genuinely.

HA! Genuine...

"Because I missed you too."

Her entire body jerks as her eyes fly to his in open mouthed shock.

A slow, deliberately slow, grin forms on his lips and his eyes twinkle. The corresponding flutter in her heart is from rage. Honestly, it is. She proves it to herself by hurtling her book at his damnable head. Unfortunately, the man had the reflexes of a serpent, despite how big he is, and easily ducks in time. The book does hit the wall with a satisfying crash instead. It just isn't as sweet as catching his mouth with a corner of it's hardcover.

"You heinous cad!" she screams as she flies to her feet to glower down at him. Almost glower down, he was so large that they were almost the same height, as he remains seated. "Why would I miss _you_?"

"The why doesn't matter when you missed me," he answers, but this time he's smart enough to leave the smirk out of it.

"Didn't matter? Of course it mattered!" She would very much like to know why _he _had missed _her_ when he'd sent his friends to watch instead of doing it himself these last few days.

"You're back to not making sense and coming up with strange notions," she accuses crossly. "Now if you're done mocking me, I'd like you to leave." She points at the door to emphasize her demand.

"Are you sure?" he asks quietly. There is a hazy tint of regret in his tone that she will not acknowledge pleases her immensely, but it also makes her immediately suspicious too.

"I wouldn't have demanded it, otherwise," she sniffs back at him.

"If that's what you want," he says calmly enough. Way too calmly and she doesn't like that either. She watches him closely as he makes his way to door and pauses once he's gained the frame to look back at her. "I'm calling you out as a liar, Knight."

"What?" she demands.

"You don't really want me to go and you didn't deny that you missed me too," he says and closes the door just as the small vase that had just been beside her chaise lounge crashes against it.


	29. Addictus

**Prompt: **#2 Addiction

**Summary: **His side of things.

**A/N: **Guess which series this belongs. ;)

Addictus is Latin for, "addict; sentenced to servitude".

_**Addictus**_

Ever since he had met her, actually, from the moment she had first passed his vision, she had overwhelmed him. Overwhelmed and appealed to him more than any other. She was unlike anything he had ever seen before and it had nothing to do with her being from another country. For there had been plenty visiting leaders who had brought their beautiful daughters as a way to try and entice either he or his father with during the years. No, it was her. It was uniquely her, that heightened his awareness to the fact that he was a man and she was a woman. It was not just lust. Lust, he had felt before and this potency that he felt towards her was different. This had been a tangle of so many things. While the women of before had teasingly batted their fake lashes at him in coy invitation, she had merely smiled. Just smiled. Yet it had been more than that. She had smiled so genuinely and so freely that he knew it would only be the beginning of trouble.

So of course he did what always made him feel in control. He made things extremely difficult for her. As in, making himself as unlikeable to her as he could by not being easy to get along with in the slightest and purposely so. To everyone else, he could admit that he was going out of his way of being a prat, but not to her. It was important that she think he really _was _a prat rather than see he was only pretending to be. She was to have no way of knowing how he felt about her when he was trying his hardest to drive her away. It was the only way he could keep himself protected from her. She was too much for him. There was too much goodness encased in her that he knew he had to push her away from him, far away from him. Women like her were not meant for men like him. He was too tainted and too tormented for her to ever understand and accept him. She would never be able to love him the way that he has always yearned for. In the end she would only hurt him. That was the way of things and he knew better than to entertain false hopes. She would end up devastating him and he could not afford to give anyone that kind of power over him.

So he had gotten into the habit of getting her hackles raised and often. It was unintentional when the act soon became second nature to him, to where he did not need to think about it to be so. Which proved how much of a fool he was, because in a sordid way, seeing her hackles raised appealed to him too. He _liked_ to see that defiant flash in her eyes when he said something to offend her and the way she tried to keep her composure while doing it. Even the way she kept on trying to be friendly, endeared her to him.

His natural reaction of making people believe he was a narcissistic jerk, probably would have worked much more efficiently if they had not gotten themselves stuck in their present situation. He is sure he would have been successful in his efforts eventually, but now, even if he was the last person she wanted to be with, she had no choice but to stay with him. It made things problematic and foiled his good intentions because being so close to her for so long brought up more things that he liked about her.

There had been a handful of moments where he had let his guard drop and showed her that he was not really full of airs and really did care. Though he had always covered the oversight quickly, she had started looking at him a certain way that was not simple disdain or annoyance but a complicated observation as if to try and discern his true character. Which was unacceptable. At times like that, it had been convenient that every one of his statements about what he thought of her had been truths. They had only been spoken with a contradicting tone, which made them sound insincere. They had all been sincere, whether she thought so or not. Speaking to her in that way made it easier for him to be completely honest with her, while saying them in such a way that she always took it in the offensive, strictly by the _way _he had said them. Which was the reaction he wanted from her anyway. Let her think that he thought badly of her. They did say that the best lies were really half truths. So while his words had been the truth, his tone had been the lie. He could not give away the fact that she tied him in knots. It was safer for the both of them if she never knew what he really meant when he said such things. Cowardly though it was, he did not have the courage to say them in the way they should be said anyway. Doing so would be counterproductive his plans.

The end results of his labors would come when he finally got her back to civilization. In the mean time, they had to survive the band of villains that were stalking them around his forest. Right at this very moment however, he had blown it by telling her that he liked her. It had felt like the best thing to say to throw her off and he did it in his customary way of making it seem like dry sarcasm. He did not exactly regret saying it, but he should not have taken hold of her hand after making such a declaration. No, taking her hand had been his biggest mistake yet.

As soon as he had touched her skin, he had found yet another thing that had him hooked. Everything about her, good or bad, was addicting and quickly becoming more so. Despite all his self preservations, he was beginning to crave everything about her. First, it had been just to look at her that he could not resist. Then it had been to make that fiery passion appear in her eyes whenever he said something to rile her up. Now, it was to touch. He had been hoping that his bald and outrageous statements would make her withdraw from him. It even had seemed to work for a bit, but when she always met him toe to toe, it did not look like she was being repelled at all.

He was really starting to get worried now. He was getting more and more attached to her. The more time they were forced to stay together, completely alone, the stronger his attachment was becoming. By the time he _does_ get her back to civilization, he fears he will willingly sentence himself to servitude. He would willingly be a slave to her.

So he needed to try harder. He needed to make her _want_ to leave him as soon as this was over and she was somewhere safe. That was the only way to prevent anything from happening between them.


	30. Abscondo

**Prompt: **#22 Secret

**Summary: **It's a busy night.

**A/N: **The Distortion Series.

Abscondo is Latin for, "to hide; conceal; secret".

_**Abscondo**_

Keeping her head low and her body in a tight little ball, she presses her hand against her mouth to muffle as much of her panting breathes as she can as she hides in the small secret compartment near Noctis' Imposter's rooms. There is angry orders being shouted and thundering footsteps just beyond the panel that keeps her hidden. She cannot risk even a peaking glance between the thin seams of the hidden door for fear her movement might make too loud a noise. Instead she strains her ears in order to hear any indication that they may have stumbled upon her little hideout. It is risky to stay so close to the scene of the crime, but logically, her pursuers would _expect_ that she would try to get away as far as she could and not even think that she would be just a few steps from where it had all happened. At least she hopes that is what they expect so that this works to her obvious advantage. The situation is precarious to say the least.

"I'm about to pee my pants."

"Yeah, make sure you're on the way to the loo and not even thinking about doing that in here," comments Ignis dryly.

She mentally pleads for them not to tempt her to laugh right now. It is bad enough that she cannot seem to lower the sound of her pounding heart.

"I think I just lost five years of my life with that last stunt, Stell."

_You and me both_, she agrees silently.

This was not the most brilliant plan but as she was able to snag a prime sample in the process, that part of it at least, had worked out very well. She just needed to figure out how she was going to get her nerves in order so she could implement her escape without getting herself killed or captured in the process. It was just as Gladiolus had said, slipping inside the castle walls had not been much of an obstacle. It was the escape that did not look so promising right now. It was one thing to work in theory and another to execute. They had all known that it would be impossible for her to get a sample from the Imposter without triggering an alarm. So the plan had included that contingency. Gladiolus was to station himself in the opposing wing to create a diversion to give her an easier escape. She had been given fifteen minutes to get in and get out of the Imposter's rooms before Gladiolus was to take action.

It had taken her five minutes to gain entry into the multiple room suite. Simple enough, as it had not been locked. One minute to locate the bathroom and another to look around quickly and take his razor blade. It was something that the Imposter would notice mising but would most likely pass the loss off as an inconvenience rather than something shady.

"Razor blade," Prompto had approved. "I never would have thought to use that. Genius, Stell!"

The plan had been going off without a hitch when she heard the taunting voice again. In the middle of all that had happened, with the shocks and big revelations, she had forgotten it. Along with the heavily cloaked despair that came with it.

_Think you to escape my clutches?_

_What would you do without me?_

_Ignorant folly. Cheap. _

_A Stain in what was once so beautiful and pure. _

_Failure is all that you will ever know._

As they had before, the words had not matched the scene she had been in when it uttered those words. Neither did they seem to be meant for her ears. That she could still hear them so clearly made her wonder _who_ was speaking and if they were even aware that their words could be heard in her ears.

"Do you guys hear that?" she had asked.

"Hear what?" asked Ignis. "Is someone coming?"

Why could they not hear it as well?

"No, it...," she stumbled off. How would she explain it to them if they could not hear it? "I have heard it before, back at the arena. I can hear it again now."

"What is it?"

"It's saying terrible things," she said, even as the hateful words continue to flow through the air.

"I think you'd better high tail it outta there, Stell," advised Prompto uneasily.

"Leaving right now," she had answered, opening a small cabinet below the sink and finding a small plastic bag to keep the razor. A great sense of urgency had fallen over her suddenly and felt a great need for haste.

"What's this?" a voice asked from the doorway.

She had startled so terribly that she may have even squeaked with her jump.

Prompto and Ignis had cursed in unison over the comm.

She had turned around slowly, making sure to keep the blade behind her.

The Imposter had been standing against one side of the door frame with his arms crossed casually across his chest, his gaze fixed firmly upon her. He stood as a phantom with surrounded in shadow. "A little late for housekeeping."

"Glad, set off the alarm!" cries Ignis.

"I'm not ready yet!"

"It is never a bad time to do a little cleaning up," she replied snootily, refusing to show any fear. She would not cower to a fake.

It had been dark when she had entered the rooms and had not dared turn any of them on. The full moon's illumination had given her enough light to make her way around regardless. She had even tip toed around so as to be as quiet as possible. Could it be that he had been there in the dark all along?

"You are full of surprises," he stated in an intrigued tone. He had not sounded angry or upset, just amused, if not in a perplexed way. "I thought for sure Erebus would kill you in ten seconds flat. But then you managed to escape and the next night I find you sneaking into my rooms."

The familiarity of the way his body had been posed unnerved her. The way he had held himself like that had reminded her so much of Noctis, that for a moment, she really doubted her own theory of whether he was the fake or if he really _was_ Noctis. His tone had still sounded wrong, but his mannerisms were more like Noctis than they had when last they had been in the same room. She had not been able to see his eyes, but obvious interest and curiosity in his stance were new, where there had only been bored indifference before. It reminded her of how Noctis had looked when they had first met. He too had stood in similar a fashion that night, long ago. The only difference being that this one made her feel threatened.

"What did you come to Nihilsomno for?" he had asked, like it had been part question and part musing. "It is not every day that I find a trespasser in my bathroom."

"I came for Noctis," she had answered boldly.

She had expected him to flinch or startle at her confession but he had done neither. The glowing beams of light may not have been enough for her to make out the expression that had been on his face, but his body language had given no sign of surprise at her statement either. He had not reacted at all. Which had caused sweat to begin gathering at her brow as he had continued to stand there watching her an endless moment without saying a word.

"So what now?" he asked. "You are here and in my rooms. What did you want by coming in here?"

"I am still looking for Noctis."

From the way his head tilts to the side, she could envision his eyebrow being raised.

"Come to solve the great mystery have you?" he asked, taking his first step toward her then. "What if it is no mystery at all?"

"What do you mean?"

"You seem to already have a theory," he replied with another step. "Let's hear it."

"Stella, get ready to get out of there in five seconds," warned Gladiolus. "Four, three..."

"_You_, are not Noctis," she had accused. He had been close enough to her at that point that she could see the red of his eyes and the challenging gleam that had been there just before a loud rocking jolted the castle.

Gripping the razor blade in a tight fist, she managed to slice at the Imposter's shoulder. He had instinctively jumped back and away, she pushed him towards the bath tub, making sure to grab hold of the fresh cut and bolting out of the suite. The many approaching steps had stopped her short once she reached the hall and she had barely enough time to hide here before they passed by. Which was how she had ended up here now, clutching her inner blouse where her heart is with the bloodied hand while trying to muffle the sounds of her pants.

"Stella, tap your comm one time if you're all right," urges Ignis with a voice tense with worry.

Slowly, she reaches for her ear and taps once.

The three of them sigh in relief.

"Don't stay there too long," warns Prompto.

"I'd check now to see that the coast is clear," advises Ignis. "Everyone that has reacted would have already gone past you by now."

She would be right. The Imposter had not alerted anyone and even he would have raced away in order to try and catch up with her, assuming she was actually running away after fleeing his rooms. Trying to reassure herself of that, she takes in her first steady breathe. It was not really necessary to check whether he had really gone because she can feel the lack of presence in the hall. Even the evil whisperings had gone silent.

How had he gotten the jump on her like that?

"I think I am clear," she whispers, opening the panel an inch so as to peer out. "How does the roof look?"

Stealthily speeding across the carpeted hall, she gains entry to a seldom used (according to Ignis) stairwell with roof access.

"It looks good," answers Ignis. "Hurry."

"Now get your booty movin' sister," urges Prompto.

"I'd smack you upside the head if I was there bobble head," threatens Gladiolus. "Using that kind of language..."

She manages a shaky chuckle as she races up the steeps stairs two at a time. Her thighs are positively on fire by the time she makes her way to the top floor. She is just about to throw open the door when a chill races up her spine as her ears register the unmistakeable rasping sound of Erebus' breathe and her body freezes in mid step.

"Stell, is that...?"

"Run, Stella!"

Ignis' shout breaks her paralysis and she crashes through the roof top entrance, stumbling when she hits the gravel but managing to compensate for the change in momentum without falling on her face. She does not bother to look back and instead lunges head long towards the end of the wing, pumping her legs faster as she goes. She throws off her cape when it hinders her speed. Her wig quickly blows off as well, with the stronger winds at this level, exposing her long blond hair to the night sky.

_He can teleport. He can teleport. He can teleport._ She keeps reminding herself in her head, pushing her body to go faster.

"You can make it!" cheers Prompto.

Without any pause or hesitation, she leaps off the ledge toward the next building with her face forward. Stretching out her arms in front of her in a mimicry of a swan dive, she rolls her body head first when she reaches the next rooftop, smoothing out her landing as she comes to a sliding halt in a crouched position on the other side. Not a second later, she pushes off the ground and jumping up to continue her getaway. The next building is not as far away so her jump is not as drastic. Then she hurtles another gap, leaping from building to building, rooftop to rooftop for the two blocks it takes to reach the sewer main that would take her back to the hideout. She half fears that he will appear right in front of her at any second and that fear alone is enough to keep the adrenaline pumping in her veins. She has no chance of outrunning him enough to lose him when she reaches the main, slightly at ease with the knowledge that he did not know to where she was currently racing towards. So she needed to make this good.

"Gladiolus," she calls in mid run. "Meet me at the bottom of the entrance."

"The bottom?"

"Package is going to be dropped," she warns, knowing that he will understand. She just has to hope for the best that she does not break all her bones or his in the process.

"Here comes my second heart attack of the night," comments Pro, breathlessly. She cannot tell whether he is running or if it is just her own pants that she hears over the comm.

"Pro, move it!" shouts Ignis. "I'll get the..."

The rest of his words are blurred out in the rushing air and wild heartbeat already flooding in her ears. She is almost there, almost there.

"_Stop!_" a raspy shout calls after her.

That is her only warning before a hand grips her arm and whirls her around. She teeters off balance and would have fallen if not for the sure hands that steady her. Then her vision is filled with the shiny black helmet of Erebus. The sharp gasp of fear whooshes out of her at seeing him so close to her now and braces herself for a blow.

He does not do anything. He does not speak and his grip, though firm, is not constricting nor painful. Almost as if it were only meant to stop her from stepping away, not an attempt at capturing her. All he really does is _look_ at her. The harsh sounds of his breathing the only sign that he is human with feelings, as his hidden gaze bores down into her face.

"I _know_ who you are," she pants.

A quick intake of breathe and a temporary squeezing of her arms give away his surprise and she takes this small opening. She thrusts him away at the same time her summoned rapier slices at his arm, jerking herself out of his grasp. Only to move forward again to press the flat side of her blade against the wound, just deep enough to draw a little blood from it. Then she reaches up with her lips so that they hover over where his ears should be underneath the hard plastic.

"But do _you_?" she asks softly, letting all of her emotions leak through her voice, before taking a step backwards and diving off the roof towards the dark alley below. Aligning her body at a straight angle, she falls cleanly through the narrow man hole just before Prompto slams it shut and forces herself on her back in midair, trusting that Gladiolus and Ignis will cushion her landing.


	31. Fides

**Prompt:** #4 Faith

**Summary: **Things are coming to a head.

**A/N: **The Dragon Knight Series

Fides is Latin for, "trust, confidence, reliance, faith".

_**Fides**_

"This is becoming a problem."

Oh Etro. That sounded as ominous as Noct's, "So, I met someone last night". First Noct and now Gladiolus. He knows he should have seen this conversation coming, because truthfully, it was long overdue. But that didn't really make a difference when he wasn't _ever_ going to be prepared to have it anyway. But that didn't matter when they all relied on him when it came to problem solving. It was who he was to find the solution and were it not for his warning, Glad would have probably figured it all out on his own without coming to him at all. The Dragon Knight and Gladiolus' relationship was fascinating, if not surprising. How was he supposed to have known that things would get to this level of complicated? The situation was precarious, to say the least. It had the potential to be _disastrous_.

"I'm listening," he replies steadily. He worries how this was going to effect his usually easy going friend. Since, it really could end very badly for him and really, it wasn't just the loss of his friend's life that worried him.

"I don't know how to dig in to this," Glad says thoughtfully. "I'm not sure whether I'm coming or going with her."

"You can't tell because she doesn't know herself either," he replies.

They've all gathered that she must have had limited interactions with people. Other than training sessions, mess halls and missions and maybe even bunk heads, there did not seem to be any time for her to have any social experiences like people should have had. He had seen her internal struggles first hand, when he watched her interact with Glad and how she had behaved when it had been his turn to spend the day with her. He doubted she was even aware of how easily one could pick up on her feelings now. When he had first seen her, she had been devoid of anything but the task of killing Noct. Now, she looked unsure and unnerved. Never a good thing for a soldier to feel. He is also sure that her lack of sleep was another factor to consider. It did not seem like she had slept a full night the entire month that she had been with them.

"She's not used to having... friends," he adds carefully. Even though friends wasn't what he was actually thinking, but it was wise to tread carefully in this volatile situation.

There's no way to get an accurate read on the extent of Glad's feelings. Sometimes he was a really hard read. But of the four of them, Glad was the most predictable because he was the most constant.

"That makes a lot of sense,"Glad agrees with a nod. He rubs his scruffy chin as things start adding up in his mind.

"What's got you so spooked?" he asks levelly, watching his friend closely.

Glad hesitates with himself before saying, "When it comes time for Knight to choose, and she doesn't pick us. I don't want Noct or you or Pro to doubt where my loyalties lie."

It wasn't something _he_ would ever worry about. He knew that the others felt the same way. They were a band of brothers and the thought of Glad betraying him had never crossed his mind. Glad was just not that kind of guy that would turn on his friends. No matter what. Fight like a bunch of hellions on occasion as they did, theirs was a bond that didn't come often and didn't fade. They'd already been through too much to start doubting each other now.

"Why would Noct or any of us doubt you?" he poses curiously. "Do _you _doubt yourself?"

"Nah," Glad answers without any hesitation. Just like he knew he would. "But I can't say the same about Knight."

This was bad. It was always bad when Glad pointed out the obvious. None of them could say what the Dragon Knight would do and none of them expected that Glad was to be solely responsible for whatever that decision would be.

"You care about her."

It's not a question.

"Those asshats totally screwed with her head. Trying to make her into some kind of killing machine," Glad growls angrily.

And like any machine. She would do what she was programmed to do.

"If it comes down to that, we wouldn't make you kill her," he states bluntly.

"I knew that," says Glad with a roll of his shoulders. "What worries me is that I might not let you either."

It crosses his mind briefly that this sounded like a twisted version of a Florence Nightingale kind of relationship. Glad had taken the Dragon Knight under his wing and had obviously grown very attached to her. She may not have been physically injured by it didn't take long to see that deep down, she was a fragile person. One who had learned to channel that vulnerability through anger and hate. Which means that everything was coming to a head and it was going to be one mother of a mess. Especially when it had been clear as day that she had been upset at the suspicion that Glad had abandoned her to the care of others. She was attached to him too, whether she knew it or not and he to her. There was a lot that Glad didn't mention when they discussed his interactions with her, but it wasn't something that needed to be either. Gladiolus had never hidden that he cared.

He hated being right all the time. But it all fit now. As screwed up as it all was becoming, it fit. Of their group, Glad might look like the bull with the toughest skin, but he had the softest heart and was the most susceptible to letting his guard down for someone as troubled as the Dragon Knight was. Time was running out too. They all knew it. It was any day now that the other side would execute their next attack and the Dragon Knight was the biggest wild card. They couldn't afford to have Glad distracted when they were hit next. They needed him to be on his game and he wouldn't be when he was too concerned about Knight. He didn't know how badly things would turn out, but he hopes that it didn't mean the loss of a brother. In any case, he needed to say something to ease Glad's worries. So he said what he had the most faith in because that was the only thing that he was sure of.

"We'll never doubt you," he says.

The obvious relief that smooths out the rough lines of Glad's face proves his faith is not misguided.


	32. Velico

**Prompt: **#20 Smirk

**Summary: **What the others are doing.

**A/N: **The same series where Stella and Noctis are stuck in the woods.

Velico is Latin for, "taunt". There is no Latin word for smirk so I went with something that could be represented by a smirk.

_**Velico**_

Things were looking a little hairy. They should all be together. The four of them. How it should be. How it's always been. Getting older really sucks when you think about all the years that have piled on, and they weren't ever really kids to begin with. Not that, there were _that_ many years piled on either. To the big wigs, they were just a bunk of babies still in their nappies. Didn't stop them from putting on the pressure to "get with it" and "be a man". Gawd, he hated it when they got all, "when I was your age" on you. Been awhile since they'd been anywhere near his age and when they had been, they'd never gone to war. Sure, they weren't exactly flower lilies themselves when it came to violence. Some of the council were more thug-like than the politicians that they claimed to be. But everything they'd done so far had been hush-hush and behind closed doors. Cold war would do that. Get used to doing everything in secret that when it's threatened to be exposed, they all go running to the hills and leaving _them_ with the dirty clean up. Cause that's what this war is, a clean up.

So, to the four of them it was, "buck up and be a man" and he said, "grow a pair old man!". Not that he actually said it out _loud_, but he sure broadcast it loudly enough in his head with his patently smirk. That's how they learned to cope with a lot of the asinine things that they were told to do, smirk. But this latest fiasco was going to be the tip that broke the behemoth's back, where not even smirking was gonna help.

Something stinks a hairy big one and a sly glance towards Iggs and Glad say that they think so too. They'd just been told that the search party had reported finding the remains of Noct's hiking party, which included Princess Fleuret, who was visiting from Tenebrae. They were supposed to believe that everyone was dead, Noct and the Princess included. He was also born an hour ago and needed to be burped too. Sounded like they were finally gonna have to cut the umbilical cord from mommy council because they had finally made their first exposing move. That the party hadn't comeback with any bodies (namely Noct's), was a red flag in and of itself. Body parts were brought back and they were supposed to believe that Noct's were included in there somewhere.

Yeah, get that burpy blankie, cause he's gonna blow a chunk right now. A chunk of sh...

"You are not to go out there under any circumstances," advised the Lord of the Council. "We do not know who caused this, but we will find out!"

Advised (ordered) not to conduct their search too.

Uhuh, this stunk worse than week old socks.

So they put on their best shocked, sad faces and moosied on out of the briefing room. They made a show of patting each other's shoulders in shared sympathy before splitting up in different directions. It was a thing they did to throw off the suits that were be sure to follow them. It's a thing they did when they didn't want the higher ups to know what they were doing and since he wasn't known for being the most reserved, he made an entire production of showing how "upset" he was over the not really death, death of Noct. In a way, he's glad that it was finally happening. It meant that now, they could _do_ something and stop the sneaking around stuff. He hates the sneaking around all the time. Sometimes it was just, _stupid_.

Threatened, even if they _thought_ about looking for Noct on their own. This is after they'd refused to let them go with Noct on that hiking trip in the first place. Then sending out their "search" party before even telling them that something had happened. No, their actions weren't suspicious at all! Just like they were as angelic as they appeared to be in their black suits and black leather gloves with mean faces. Yeah, real subtle. Oh, and he can't forget the pistols in their shoulder harnesses weren't a dead give away either. Yeah, like they were gonna drop it.

As soon as he reaches his room, he makes sure to turn on the game and make loud noises of settling down in front of the good old flat screen before sneakily slipping into the ventilation shaft. He crept his way towards the stairs that would take him up to the attic without being seen and even though he _really_ hated taking this way, these were extenuating circumstances. That didn't mean he had to like that he looked like a chimney sweep once he made it to the attic and swung open the door to the hidden inner room.

Ignis is already sitting down with his laptop.

"Glad not here yet?"

"He's losing his tail now," answers Ignis.

He shakes his head at that. Why did they always assume that Glad would be the easiest to follow? Just because he was the tallest and bulkiest? It did make it easier for the rest of them to sneak around when they did, but they were a team! When one was delayed, they were _all_ delayed.

Nothing for it. He could always check and clean out his rifle. Maybe sharpen the small dagger that he kept hidden in his boot too. So, settling down on one of the plush chairs they kept up here, he tinkers around, looking through various openings to make sure there wasn't any build up that he missed from the last time he checked his gun. Then counted out his shells. That done, he takes out his knife, along with a smooth stone that he kept on him and starts sharpening the blade. The rock gliding against the sharp edge always makes a nice sound and he makes a happy sound himself. When he sees his buddy still tapping his fingers away at the laptop, he has to say _something_.

"Say, Iggs," he says without looking up. "Ever thought about contacts? Corrective eye surgery?You've got options you know."

"Not since the _last_ time you asked me," is the bland response.

"All I'm saying is you might score if you lost the glasses," he rags, looking up from his sharpening to shoot him a smirk.

Ignis checks his watch. "You managed four minutes and twenty seconds."

"No way!" he cries in protest. "I lasted longer than that!"

"Nope," answers Ignis, checking again. "That means you owe me a twenty."

"Your watch is off," he accuses.

A loud snort comes from the doorway in answer to that accusation.

Now, they are finally all there. Well, except Noct, that is and that pisses him off all over again.

"How long did he last this time?" asks Glad.

"Four minutes and twenty seconds," answers Ignis.

"To which I call B.S.." he pronounces. "I was quiet for at least five."

"You asked me if Glad was here yet," Ignis reminds him.

Damn!

"Which means you do owe me twenty bucks," Ignis says with a grin.

Next thing on his shopping list is a watch!

"So what's the plan?" Glad asks once they've settled all that.

"Noct's last known location was somewhere here," says Ignis, turning his laptop and pointing to a spot on the map on display.

"I say the majority of the group that left are dead," he figures.

"Me too," agrees Glad.

"Which means it's most likely just Noct and the Princess," Ignis says with a nod. "The last two nights, this area has seen electrical showers."

"At least they had good timing," remarks Glad.

"How do we know which way he's headed?" he asks.

Noct has been on foot a solid day give or take, by his reckoning. Gotta factor in whether he was with the Princess or not too.

"Two hours ago, the satellite picked up a forest fire here," says Ignis, pointing a little distance away from the original spot.

"When there'd been a storm the night before?" he asks skeptically. "It'd be too wet for any coincidental brush fire."

"Exactly," agrees Ignis. "So it's gotta be Noct."

"What's he doing all the way over there?" Glad asks with a frown.

"Means he knows something," he says.

Like the people that ambushed their group wasn't who they're implying it was.

"Which means we've got to get out of here, cause we're probably next," Ignis says grimly.

"Woh, ya think they've finally grown a pair?" he asks, totally loving that he was right about finally being able to do something about what they've suspected for so long.

"Sounds like it if they just tried to take out Noct and the Princess."

"We were right, then," he says. "They _are_ planning something big."

"We gotta get Noct before they do," says Glad.

"And _before_ they take us out," adds Ignis.

"Things are getting hot now boys," he says with genuine glee.

"How are we gonna get there faster than the hunting party that's already out there?" asks Glad. "Can't get a car out there and an airship can be tracked."

"True, but air is the fastest way."

"So what are our options?"

"There's a cargo ship that'll be flying over the area just east of that mark, right here," answers Ignis, pointing his finger again.

"Just so happens to be?"

"Noct actually reads those reports I tell you guys to read all the time," says Ignis with a scoff.

"Those are boring!" he defends.

"Yeah, but now they're useful because I'm sure Noct expects us to meet him there."

"So we're high jacking a cargo ship?" asks Glad.

"Nope," replies Ignis with a shake of his head and then smirks at them. "We're gonna be stowaways and parachute out once the ship flies over the area. Nobody has to know we were even on it."

"How do we know they haven't thought of that already?"

"Even if they have, they can't stop the ship from making it's delivery," answers Ignis. "The goods on board are too important to the trade market."

"But that means they'll be guarding the ship," remarks Glad.

"Can't make things _too_ boring," comments Ignis with that sly look in his eye.

The one that means it's gonna be awesome!

"I like it!" he cries with a fist in the air. "When's it taking off?"

"We got thirty minutes."

Now this is what makes his life the best thing, _ever_.

They three of them share a smug, eager look before making ready to leave. This means he has to practice his taunting smirk for when they get back and actually tell the council out loud, to shove it. The thought puts a grin on his face.


	33. Immunda

**Prompt: **#9 Dirty

**Summary: **Can the stains that made one dirty, truly be washed away?

**A/N: **The Distortion Series

Immunda is Latin for, "dirty, unclean, impure, foul".

_**Immunda**_

"I'm having heart palpitations."

_Snort_

"I'm serious! My heart can't handled all this."

"Head between your legs, Pro. One breath at a time," Ignis instructs without even turning to look back at him before taking a quick glance back at her and Gladiolus. "Are you both all right?"

"No worries," replies Gladiolus easily enough. "Just got a little winded catching the package." He turns to grin at her and she smiles gratefully in return.

"What about you, Stella?" prods Ignis. His mind, she can already see, is working on every possible angle from this point onwards.

Trust him to think of every contingency. He must have realized that she would be coming fast and hard, so he had, had a bike at the ready and a thick air pad up to catch her, or them, if the need arose. Which, of course, it had and how grateful she is for his foresight. Once her body had come crashing toward it heavily, the pad had deflated under her weight, causing her to roll right off and smash into Gladiolus' chest. Fortunately, he had been ready for such a collision. Unfortunately, he had not been able to stop the both of their bodies from falling backwards once they had collided. The landing had completely winded her and for a moment she had still been disoriented as Prompto had hauled her to her feet while Ignis did the same for Gladiolus.

The three of them now sat on the platform that had housed the air pad, behind Ignis, who was the one driving the bike that was hauling all of them through the thick darkness of the underground. As soon as they gotten their balance back and could stand on their own two feet, Ignis had herded all of them immediately where they were and had them zooming off before she could get her wits back properly. She is still not sure whether her wits have returned even now. She is coming off an adrenaline high of monstrous proportions and filthy from jumping off rooftops. It would take her years to process all the puzzling things that she has just heard and seen too. It was a complete sensory overload.

"Stella?" Ignis asks again.

"I am fine," she answers finally, making sure to smile at the other two beside her in gratitude. She has so much to thank them for and it is so much more than just coming to her rescue just now.

"We can't go back to that safehouse," says Ignis, as they continue to speed along the underground.

"Which one now?" asks Prompto. "I'm gonna need some recovery time."

"Stop being such a drama queen," growls Gladiolus.

"We're going to have to go to one not directly accessible through here," continues Ignis. "He can track us easier now that he knows we move through the mains."

"You mean he will be tracking _me, _not the three of you," she says.

"He's gotta realize by now that you have help and we're the obvious suspects."

"But he will want me first, regardless," she points out. "Where is your lab?"

"We have one in an abandoned building on the upper east side," Ignis answers as he calculates the options in his head.

"_That_ one!" cries Prompto. "Great. Just, fantastic."

"Sissy," grumbles Gladiolus, barely audible over the rushing sounds around them.

She gives Prompto another affectionate pat in sympathy, to whatever conditions he has to suffer without giving away her mirth over it too. Just barely though and manages to smooth over her grin by ruffling his hair.

"We're gonna have to drop you off first so that the trail from this thing won't lead him right to the lab," says Gladiolus.

"Hey! I wanna go with Stell this time!" protests Prompto heatedly.

"I would love for all of you to come with me, but Glad is the best option," she says diplomatically.

"Why?"

"Because once we are down there, he will most likely have to lift me."

"I've been working out!"

"Drop it. I'm the one best suited to go with Stell this time and you know it too," says Gladiolus. "Else, it _would_ be you going with her."

"Right here," says Ignis, pulling up underneath a narrow bit of piping that did not look at all like it lead to the street. "Pro and I will get off here and make our way to the upper eastside another way while you two head on." On cue, she can hear the rumbling sounds of a passing train. He looks at Gladiolus next. "Take her to the Luna."

"Got it," responds Gladiolus switching places with him on the bike.

Ignis taps Prompto on the shoulder to get him moving, bringing them in the position of standing in front of her.

"We'll be in touch," Ignis says, tapping at his ear.

"You're not good for the blood pressure, Stell," states Prompto, just before he gives her a tight squeezing hug.

"Oh!" she cries, exasperated at herself for forgetting. "How could I forget?"

Without any thought to prudence, she reaches for the buttons on her blouse and starts undoing them quickly.

"Woh! Hold on there, Stell..."

"The Imposter's blood is on my shirt and Ignis needs it if he is to do his tests," she explains with a roll of her eyes. As if she would suddenly have the urge to strip in front of the three of them. Especially at a time like this. She would rather not do such a thing while the three men that she considered to be brothers were in front of her, but there was no way around it? If she had to do it, she would rather be with these men, whom she was all comfortable with.

"Here," says Ignis, quickly taking off and offering her his blazer in trade for her blouse.

"Erebus' sample is on my rapier," she states, summoning it as she says it.

"Aw man!" whines Prompto, before he is whipping off his own white T-shirt and handing it to her.

She takes it with a smile of thanks before wiping the blade with it and handing that to Ignis too.

"I'm gonna get your abs for the next time this happens," Prompto tells Gladiolus, pointing to the hard ripples of well defined muscle that line the taller one's stomach.

"Stop being so lazy and you'd already have them," Gladiolus snorts back.

She manages a shaky chuckle at their exchange while she struggles to put on Ignis' blazer. There is nothing to be done about the large gaping V that made up the neckline so she merely rolls up the slim sleeves and fluffs her hair to detract from the alarming amount of cleavage she is forced to expose.

"Very sexy, Stell," comments Prompto. "Nobody will be the wiser."

Which actually makes her feel somewhat better to hear because she could not risk gaining too much attention once they reached the streets. It was night and Nihilsomno, though a little different now, must till have a night life. Thing could not change _that_ much.

"Which reminds me that there won't be any clothes close in your size at the safe house," Ignis comments uncomfortably.

"Honestly," she says with a huff. "Do you think I am worried that I may look fat in your big boy clothes?"

"You women are downright _fickle_ about those things," states Prompto bluntly.

"Oh hush up," she tosses at him with a roll of her eyes. Then she turns to see Gladiolus' amused and slightly worried face. "Shall we go now?"

"That'd be a good idea."

"Try to get a nap too," advises Ignis softly. "Your adrenaline will crash and it'll do you some good when it does."

"Thanks," she says with a quirked smile. "I shall try."

"All right," says Gladiolus, revying up the engine again. "Hop on behind me, Stella."

"Be safe," she admonishes the two they are separating from by way of farewell.

"I'd say you need that more," remarks Ignis, taking a step back with Prompto and offering a brief salute before she and Gladiolus speed away.

"One more step accomplished," she sighs to herself.

They were slowly getting closer.

Or so she hopes.

"How long do you think it will take them to find us?" she asks close to Gladiolus' ear.

"Noct would have followed right away," he answers, turning his face slightly so she can see him in profile even though his eyes do not leave the view in front of them. "Assuming it's after calling it in. It'll take him awhile before he can manage to get that door open."

If it was really Noctis under that helmet, the three of them were formidable foes. They knew his weaknesses better than anyone else and if he had turned on them, they had to protect themselves, which in the process was also saving him as well, by putting up fail safes that he would have a hard time cracking. If Noctis had been himself, he would have sensed this long ago. He should have known that they would never truly leave him or the city. That is, unless he has forgotten everything or did he…

"Glad," she says hesitantly. "What do you think is going on? I find myself questioning everything."

"Not sure how to wrap my head around it either," he replies. "But let's wait until Ignis gets his results before we start confusing ourselves even more."

"What if I was wrong?" she asks. "What if that is not an Imposter at all?"

"Still doesn't explain how Erebus fought exactly like Noct did when you the two of you faced off."

This is true. No two men fought exactly the same and none could execute the exact same moves in a fight five years previous against the exact same person. Similarities, she could understand. It had been more than that, it had been precisely the same fight.

"You sure you don't wanna rest a bit?" Gladiolus asks, risking a quick concerned glance back at her. "It'll take him awhile to find our trail. Enough time for a nap."

"I cannot sleep," she says with a shake of her head. "My mind is too restless to, especially after what just happened."

"So we're still going to the mains to try and find what Noct was up to down there."

"Yes," she says. "Will it really smell that terribly down there?"

"Worse," is the honest reply.

"All out of gas masks too," answers Prompto cheerfully over the comm.

"There are walkways which won't smell _as _bad," replies Ignis, trying his best to sound more hopeful for her sake.

"Why would Noct go down to a stinkin' place like that anyway?"

"Probably because he somehow _knew_ he would find something down there."

"Yeah, that makes more sense," agrees Prompto. "Noct ain't exactly a guy who likes to go through the shi...er, crap like that."

"I don't get how he knew there was something down there to find in the first place."

"It can't smell any kind of pleasant down there, Stella," says Gladiolus. "A lady shouldn't have to be at a place like that."

Gladiolus slowly pulls to a stop and cuts the engine, signaling that they must have already reached their destination.

"Nice try," she says, giving him a friendly pat when she dismounts from behind him. "There are too many risks otherwise. So we are stuck doing it my way."

He heaves a resigned sigh of acceptance and she knows that her stubbornness has won. Even though she can already predict that she may wish she had not been so adamant once they get down there, she would just have to bear it. There was no other way, even if she wished otherwise and they all knew it.

"Drive a hard bargain, Stell," comments Prompto with pride in his voice.

"We're at the labs now," announces Ignis.

"He's lookin' like a mad scientist now too," offers Prompto.

She bet he did and she allows herself to chuckle at the picture.

"Over here, Stella," calls Gladiolus, motioning her towards a ladder leading up to the street level. "Once you get to the top, you'll see two buttons. Press the top one and the automatic doors will open."

She nods her assent before climbing her way upwards as instructed. The first steps up are fine. Then each corresponding step up becomes increasingly difficult as the energy seems to slowly dissolve from her limbs. The adrenaline was wearing off, as Ignis said it would and replacing it with an exhaustion that has her tensing her muscles to fight it off. Not even the fear that Erebus or the Imposter could fall upon her at any moment was enough. Only the determination that she could not give in to it. She could not stop now to rest. One step after another and on until she reaches the top. Once they make it to the street, she inhales some of the crisp night air deeply to clear her head and feels a little bit better for it. All she needed was a shower to wash the dirt away from her skin and hope that it would give her a second wind to keep on going. There was no time to rest. By continually repeating this in her head like a mantra, she hopes it will make her feel less tired.

Gladiolus leads her into a tall building in a surprisingly livelier area of the city by way of the back entrance. One peek from around the corner, she catches a glance of the main lobby and sees how very fine the interior was. Sleek walls of black marble with a modern minimalist décor with plush rugs and walls made entirely of glass. It was nothing like what she had been picturing when they mentioned a safe house. It seemed entirely too open to be a safe place to hide, which probably made sense since it would be one of the last places one looking for them would think to check. Few were bold enough to hide in such plain sight. There was nothing to it but to draw as little attention to herself as possible by not looking as if she were trying to hide away. She made a point of even offering a soft laugh when they passed a few people and smiling openly before they reached the lifts and were shot up to the third floor.

"Not too high and not exactly street level," explains Gladiolus as they get off the lift and starts pointing to everything as they walk. "We made sure to get one that had easy access to the stairs and the elevators. The only thing is that they're only accessible with a keycard." He lifts up his hand to show her what it looked like.

When they reach the entrance to the flat, he waves the same keycard in front of the reader and the door opens with a soft click. He opens it all the way before motioning for her to proceed him into the darkness of the safe house. There were no lights on when they enter but none are really needed with the many lights coming in from the street. It was made up of floor to ceiling windows of thick glass, reminiscent of the lobby, with a sparsely decorated living room, which still did not neglect a large flat screen. She smiles when she sees how much attention the lone item had needed to set up. The only thing in the room that looked to have been the most important. Such a male detail that she can only shake her head with a smile. It was hanging like a chandelier from the ceiling with the view of the streets as a backdrop. Brown weathered, leather couches, a sturdy but not overly large coffee table and strong overhead lights consisted of the living space. There was a small hallway that must lead to the bedrooms with a small toilette room just beside the full kitchen.

"The window just behind the flat screen is the weakest," Gladiolus explains. "Just grab the coffee table and give it a good swing. There's always a car with a soft roof parked just below to break your fall."

She nods, impressed with that foresight, though it is clear that he does not seem comfortable at the idea of her doing such a thing.

"That's just a worst case scenario though," he says deliberately.

"What about in the bedrooms?" she asks instead of arguing needlessly.

"There's a way to escape through the bathroom, which we... altered just so it could be accessed from both rooms," he replies with a shrug. He motions for her to follow him and he makes his way down the short hallway to the master bedroom.

"You guys think of everything," she praises proudly.

"We try," he says. "But we don't keep food at any of our safe houses since we never know when we'll be using them again and we don't exactly have maid service in all of them either. So while you're washing up, I'll head to the corner store and pick up a few things."

"Sounds great."

"Was there anything you felt like eating?"

"Something quick and simple to eat is all," she answers and means it. Nothing fancy and she would not be an even bigger burden than she already was.

Gladiolus nods to her in answer and then proceeds to show her to the closet, where she can find something to wear after her bath. Then again, apologizing for not having anything in her size. Their continued worry abut size is endlessly both amusing and endearing and she finally has to force him out so that she can get herself sorted. Soon, she is alone. Alone with her many thoughts that easily make her feel dizzy trying to make sense of them all. With a loud sigh, she shakes her head and peers into the closet doors to figure out what to put on after she has washed. She did not mind it at all that none of the clothing inside were for a female. That would actually have made her feel very weird and it was just as well since men's clothing was more practical. Especially considering that she planned on mucking through the sewers while wearing them. Before she can pick suitable bottoms, the urgent need to wash herself from the dirt and grim of her nocturnal activities overrules everything else. So, she merely grabs a white shirt and decides to work out the pant situation afterwards.

Once she gets the shower going at just the right temperature, she lets herself merely stand there and feel the water rain upon her dirty skin. Her violet eyes watch in silent sorrow, as the remains of the Imposter's and Erebus' blood washes away from her to flow down the drain and feels the tears cloud her vision. The last two hours have been a whirlwind of so many things, leaving her with more questions than answers. What had the Imposter meant when he said that it was no mystery at all? Did that imply that he _was_ Noctis and had changed into the cad that she now knew? Then who was Erebus then, and why had he restrained her only for the simple purpose of looking his fill of her? What had been his intentions after that? Neither his actions nor the Imposter's actions made any sense. If the Imposter really were Noctis, why did he not seem to know her? It was clear that he hadn't known who she was from the first. Had she really been so unimportant to Noctis that he could forget her so easily? Why would he turn against his friends as well? None of it was logical.

Steam fills the bathroom as her mind continues to race and tries not to grow ill at how crudely she had been forced to attain samples of their blood. The masculine scented soap is a mix of fresh air and green pastures and more tears flood her eyes. It was a subtle scent that had always clung to Noctis in the days that she had known him. Oh, he had always been something that never made much sense to her but it had been different then. It had been contradictory in a different way. At least then, he had never acted as if she had been a stranger and would never have placed her in danger, no matter how upset he was. If anything he had always paid too _much_ attention to her and known too much about her, until she realized why he did. Now, he was a stranger with a familiar face. A face she loved and as much as he had seemed to have changed, she loved that face still. She wanted not just the face though. She wanted the _man_ who had, had that face. The man that she had fallen for and admired and missed. The one that she had come looking for and was beginning to fear that she would never find again. Even if either the Imposter or Erebus was Noctis, he was no longer the man she had known. The question was, could she love who he had become?

Shutting off the water with an angry sniffle, she wipes her eyes swiftly before grabbing a towel and drying herself before wrapping it securely around her body. Idly, she grabs another and starts rubbing her hair to shake out the excess moisture and then uses it to swipe the foggy mirror to get a look at her reflection.

Then, screams when she sees the black helmet of Erebus reflected from behind her.


	34. Carmen

**Prompt: **#39 Song

**Summary: **Who's voice is it that sings in the dark?

**A/N: **The Distortion Series, but when in the series?

Carmen is Latin for, "song, poem".

_**Carmen**_

The hour is late. It has already been some time since the darkness has cloaked the cityscape. The time when night was blackest. It is the moment of a brief bit of silence hovering over the usually bustling streets. Even those who loved to roam the nights were in bed and dreaming nonsensical thoughts of fantasy. However for him, sleep eludes him for another night and he finds himself where he usually goes to be alone. He sits idly upon his throne in the hollow vastness that makes up the chamber. It has always felt eerie here. The feel more in common with a catacomb rather than the room that he ruled from, but there is no other place he would rather be so late.

Dazzling shards of shattered crystal float in a twinkling dance around him, lit with the sharp beaming rays of the moon. He gives the sight nothing but an irritated sigh as his hand breaks the stillness of his body by beginning to move. No, not his hand per say, but specifically, his fingers. They begin to tap before he acknowledges that something other than the shimmering stones can be heard. A sound soft, wispy and fluid that beckons his fingers to continue their tapping against the armrest.

The sound makes him restless, provoking him to sit up straight as if summoned, and he steps forward to make his way to where he feels he suddenly must be. It has been a very long time since he has felt the calling and now he is almost fevered to be where it beckons when he had ignored it all this time before. He realizes that this is what keeps him awake this night and a shadowed promise of ease hurries his steps down a lonely hall and onward to the two doors at the end.

Silently, he opens one of the double doors to gain entry to the vast room shrouded in bleakness. A room he has not set foot in nor has seen dancing in since he had been but a small child. Being inside no, again after ages, allows the memory of how it had looked when he had last been here to formulate in his mind's eye. The masquerade ball. So ancient a tradition and yet still so thrilling. The teasing, enticing mystery of guessing who was who until the stroke of midnight, never lost its appeal. The last one to have been hosted by his Father and the last one that his mother would ever see.

If there were ever another masquerade, he wonders curiously, and he was forced to choose a mask, he is not sure which he would decide upon. He has worn so many in his lifetime that to find the one physical manifestation to represent all of them was impossible. The masks from that night long ago had been of varying colors and shapes. Some had been scary. Some had been enchanting. Most had been decadent. He figures he is a bit of all three.

A forceful rush of air draws him away from his inner musings to the furthest corner of the long hardwood floor. Someone had opened one of the balcony doors. The chilly nightly wind billows through the sheer white curtains, creating a dreamy beauty. He can _hear_ it again. It is strongest here. A haunted melody to a song that seemed familiar and yet new. A solo violin accompanied by a subtle flute and a vibrating cello play a symphony of music that did not seem natural or real. Then, it did not sound like that at all. It is a voice. A voice that carried like no voice possibly could. It sang songs in poetic symmetry and yet did not sing at all. He has to strain his ears at first to decipher the words. Until it is all that he can hear.

_"Foolish unremarkable _boy," it says with disdain. "_Think her beautiful when she is just as much a fraud as you?"_

It feels like it encircles him as it speaks. As if assessing him cynically as it does. He turns around and around in a vain attempt to see the source of the voice and finds nothing but emptiness.

It cannot possibly be a _human_ voice. Still, it sounds so clear in his ears that it cannot be a voice in his head.

"Who are you?" he demands to the open room.

He _feels_ it then. The presence that resides here with him. A devious presence that he recognizes has always been at the furthest edges of his mind. One that he had always been conscious of but not quite aware of fully.

_Yes, you've always known how much I've hated you. As I've hated her. Cheap imitations of greatness that you are._

"What do you want?"

He feels a spine tingling chill that it smiles evilly in response.

_To see you fall._

He can _see_ something now. He can actually _see_ something now. A form amidst the white waves of the blowing sheets. They float around them in an almost loving embrace that shields them just enough to make their faces indistinguishable and he cannot recognize who it is. Not at first. The eyes strike out at him like a blow when they turn to stare right into his own and then he _knows_.

A cold dread of dawning comprehension of what he has just learned would be coming, grips him. Of what was going to happen no matter what he does now. Nothing he did would matter. It was this moment that they have been waiting for all along. To gloat in his face of their triumph, letting him feel defeat in the knowledge of what events would soon come.

The figure escapes the shroud of white to look at him without hindrance. It's eyes mocking as it's lips form a malicious smirk.

"It will not work," he warns, managing to sound more confident than he feels.

All the while the figure comes closer and closer and the other worldly song laughs in arrogant triumph.

_It already has_, is the answer.

Just before the inevitable, he worries for the trials that will befall his brothers and wants to holler out in frustrated longing at being further denied what he truly wants.

"Stella."

A soft, glowing face of violet eyes and feather blond hair is the last thing he pictures before they strike.


	35. Indemnis

**Prompt: **#6 Innocence

**Summary: **It's not what's obvious, but it doesn't make it any less true.

**A/N: **The Dragon Knight Series

Indemnis is Latin for, "Innocent"

_**Indemnis**_

"Could you repeat that. Because I'm sure I heard you wrong the first time."

"I think you're innocent."

"You are mad as a hatter. Do you know that?"

"Doesn't mean I'm wrong," is the indifferent reply.

"You _are_ wrong," she persists. "Innocent is certainly not what I am."

"Maybe naïve too," he continues on as if she hadn't protested. "Yeah, I'd say big on the naïve."

"I am _not_ naïve!" she cries. "What is it with you Nihil men and the know it all attitude? Your arrogance will surely be your downfall. Thinking you know _everything_ about _everyone_." She ends with a scoff and not at all sure how they had gotten on the subject in the first place. One minute Cheeky had been going on about absolute nonsense, as he was wont to do, then tells her that _she_ was an innocent.

The mop headed fool.

"I can help you, you know," he offers with another of his cheeky grins and a wink for added measure.

"Does that actually work?" she finds herself asking, more than a touch curious for the answer.

"I've been told I'm very charming."

"Not quite the word I would use," she says honestly. Because "cheeky" suited him entirely too well to use another.

"Cause I know you're in over your head and you know it too," he states confidently.

"You have a problem speaking in too many subjects at one time," she exclaims, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "My _naivety _prevents me from following all your words properly."

"So yesterday I heard there was an accident in your room," he goes right on speaking with yet another subject.

Another subject that she will not be able to follow. She wonders if this is another tactic of his to keep her on her guard.

Of course he also had the gall to flash another grin when he makes the seemingly innocent comment. Which is anything but innocent when he asks his next question.

"Didn't you like your vase?"

HA! The little bugger.

"Simply slipped out of my hand is all," she comments aloofly.

"Darn things are really slippery," he agrees with another grin. "Too bad you missed."

"Sorry?" she asks, purposely being obtuse.

"I think maybe the both of you need to get a vase cracked against your heads."

"I would find supreme satisfaction in smashing one over _your _head," she says almost sweetly.

"You and everyone else," he comments with a simple shrug.

That is something else that she does not understand. Why was it that violence never seemed to be something they were afraid of? Other people would be terrified at the prospect of it. But they seemed to embrace and accept it as a normal part of life. There was a nonchalance to it that even she did not possess. Threatening never seemed to work on them. If anything, they seemed _encouraged_ when they were.

They were all mad. That had to be it.

"But anyway, I'm veering off course."

"You actually had one?"

"You sound like, Glad."

That has her shutting her mouth with a snap of her jaw.

"I want you to take it easy on him."

"Take it easy on _him_?" she spits out incredulously. "Why would I make anything easy for _him_?"

"See? This is why you're innocent."

"Are you sure no one has already smashed your heard?"

"Taking it easy on him would make things easier for _you_," he finishes explaining despite her quip.

"What do you mean?"

"It's obvious that you guys have a thing."

"A thing?" she sputters, appalled that they should have _anything_. "By thing you mean a mutual dislike for one another?"

"You're not stupid, Knight," he remarks, with the first stern expression she has ever seen on his face. "You can deny it all you like but you ain't foolin' nobody."

"You're mad. The lot of you," she accuses weakly.

"Think about it, Knight," he advises, getting up to take his leave of her.

"Think about _what_?" she demands.

The cheeky bastard gives her another grin, before strutting out the door with a pleased look on his face. She regretted not saving that vase to smash over his head.

The next day, she expects to see Observer when the door opens and is thoroughly taken aback when the Princess of Tenebrae steps through the door instead. The younger woman gives her a genuine smile that was not a smirk or a grin or anything that implied that she thought she knew more than her. Which deflated her feelings of indignation somewhat and only felt hollow bafflement in its wake. She was sure that they were going by a routine of sorts, in taking turns spending the day with her. Having the Princess come, threw off her calendar and her expectation.

An expectation she was _not_ going to open acknowledge as having been an anticipation of seeing the Brute.

"Hi," the Princess says shyly, by way of greeting.

"Hello," she replies carefully and cannot help the, "What do you want?" tone that she says it with.

"I know you were not expecting me, but I was eager to come and see you today."

"You mean to babysit," she corrects, almost feeling sorry for her harshness when the Princess looks at her in offended surprise.

"Babysit? Why in the world would you consider it babysitting?" the Princess asks and looks truly insulted for her sake, though she cannot comprehend why she would.

"What else would you call it?"

"Protection."

She doesn't stop the 'HA!' in answer. "Do I look incapable of protecting myself?" she asks, crossing her arms over her chest and giving her a stern look.

"Not at all," the Princess reassures her calmly. "I just…"

"Your Highness…"

"Stella."

"What?"

"Call me Stella," replies the other woman and she admits that she might have looked like a fool as she processed this illogical request from a princess.

"Stella," she makes sure to say slowly to try and get used to saying it. "I appreciate your sacrifice in coming here to 'protect me' but you need not waste your day."

"They have not told you, have they."

"They? And what have they neglected to tell me?"

Hearing that _they_ were hiding something was no surprise. It was the opportunity that she would learn what it was, that is the surprise.

"We are at war," answers Stella. "And not the war you think."

"What are you talking about?" she asks, sounding more gentle than she wants to. Out of respect of who the Princess is, of course.

"You really have no clue."

Not a question and it rankles that she keeps being spoken to like a simpleton. Such a sadly, regretfully uttered statement immediately puts her on the defensive.

"Tell me," she manages to ground out a little less savagely than she usually would.

"Your Wise One has changed the stakes," explains Stella. "We will all be hunted. We're being hunted now."  
>"We? Who are the 'we' that are being hunted?"<p>

"They have some explaining to do," Stella mutters to herself irritably, before turning back to her and replying. "There's no time to tell you everything now. But I came to tell you that you need to get moving."

"Where are the men?" she asks, before she can think better of it. Their disappearance today seems unsettling in light of all this new mystery.

"Fighting."

"Fighting," she repeats incredulously. Her temper is just about getting the better of her now and soon she is not going to even _try_ sounding civil.

"I apologize for the vague answers," sighs Stella wearily. "Right now Noctis and the guys are fighting against the Hunters."

"By that term you mean _my_ people."

"They're not your people at all," answers Stella. "They are the ones who are hunting us in earnest now."

"This is a trick, isn't it?" she demands angrily. "Some kind of test to see what I would do in reaction. To test where my loyalties lie. Nothing of what you have just said makes any sense."

"It is a recent development," assures Stella. "We thought the threat was from your side, but it really is not. Your mission to kill Noctis was not what you thought it was."

"I have no idea what you're talking about and I'm getting very sick of being so confused."

"And for that I am sorry," the Princess says in honest apology. "But I came here to tell you that you are free to go."

"What?" she asks, completely baffled (yet again!) that she should feel rejected and hurt by the announcement.

"You are free to go," repeats Stella patiently. "You are in danger here and the guys thought it best that you were given an opportunity to get away." The urgency in the younger woman's voice is almost enough to convince her of the truth of her words.

Almost.

"But you cannot go back to your Wise One. They're not letting you go just so you can _walk_ into danger."

That was where she lost her.

"So, I am to be released back into the wild," she hisses. Her irritation only continues to rise with every moment that passes. "What are they expecting me to do?"

"To live," is the simple reply. "You no longer have a mission and a master. So you are free to live any way that you choose. Just do not get caught."

"You make it sound as if I am some animal that has been held in captivity all my life," she says resentfully.

"In a sense, you have been," Stella says bluntly.

As insulting as it sounds, she can appreciate the candor.

"Now, you have no one to whom you are obliged to. Soon, none of us will have the luxury of getting away."

Which meant that the Princess, the Prince and the three companions were going to stay and fight.

"So you expect me to run away from a fight, like a _coward_, when I've been trained for it all my life?" she asks for clarifications sake.

"Not at all," Stella says. "I am merely telling you that you have a choice this time."

"Did The Brute put you up to this?" she demands, feeling her temper sky rocket at the notion that he had.

The Princess' pause looks damningly suspicious too.

"No, of course he didn't."

"I do not believe you," she says outright.

"I know you will only resent my saying this, but it is the truth," Stella says as if bracing herself for the repercussions. "But we all know that you are innocent in all of this."

"Why do all of you _assume_ that I am?" she snaps on a growl. "What about me could possibly be innocent?"  
>"You did not have a clue to what your Wise One really intended."<p>

"He wants the destruction of Nihilsomno and I was one of his weapons," she answers. "He wants the Crystal to be shared."

"That is where you are wrong."

"_How_ am I wrong?"

"He wants to destroy all of us," Stella replies. "He wants to kill all of us who have gifts."

"That is ridiculous."

He had always been generous to her. At times cruel, but he was all that she had to depend on.

"You have been sheltered all your life. All you believe is all that they have told you," the Princess says sadly. Sad and not with pity. Had it been pity she would have been forced to violence. "You have no idea. Even while being here, Noctis and the guys have kept you unawares."

"Why should I believe a thing you are saying?"

It all sounded a bit far fetched and foolish to her.

"The only way is to see for yourself, that your Wise One has lied to you," answers Stella. "For myself, I think you should stay. I urge you to stay."

"Why? What is it that is really going on, if what you say is true."

"Because Noctis needs help," the Princess explains. "There are not many who are as well trained as you and even though they try to put up a bold front, they need more help. The whole situation is dire. Our interests are the same now. It is no longer about nationality, but about who has been gifted by the Crystals."

"Why should I help them?"

"You are honorable and this is the only way to prove to you what is really happening," Stella says, motioning to the door. "Go and do whatever you are going to do."

"Do they know you are doing this?"

"Giving you an option? Of course."

She gives her a suspicious look before hurrying to the door. This chance, she was not about to pass up. It was not as if she had ever been one to doddle with words afterall.

"And I do not want you to disappoint Gladiolus."

That stops her in her tracks. "What do you mean?"

"You _know_ what I mean," Stella states flatly. "He cares about you and he's worried about you too. This is hard for him and it will be even harder if you fight against us."

"Hard for him?" she scoffs in disbelief.

"And I know you care for him too."

"What?"

"Hurry and make your choice, Knight," warns Stella. "Or you may regret keeping yourself in this stalemate the rest of your life."

She does not even pretend to understand what the other woman is saying because it's absolute rubbish. Without another word, she is out the door.

Yes, she would go back to where she belonged because there was no way she was going to turn against the Wise One. Not when he had raised her, her entire life. That she should betray him for just for a bunch of contradictory schemers that have had her off balance she had been captured? It did not mean, however, that she would not first hunt down that thick, delusional headed Brute before she leaves them all together.


	36. Frustro

**Prompt: **#5 Delusional

**Summary: **The delusion was what they hoped was the end.

**A/N: **The Undead Series.

Frustro is Latin for, "to deceive, dupe, trick".

_**Frustro**_

"I could not have born it had they gotten a chance to do to you what they had done to me."

"What _have_ they done to you?" she asks, eager and anxious to hear any part of his experiences in the labs. He never discusses it with her and she, not only wants to, she needs to know what heinous things they had done to him while he had been captured. It hurt her deeply that he never seemed to want to share it with her.

"I would rather shield you from that," he says quietly. "It would needlessly give you cause for nightmares. I have no doubt that they would have subjected you to far worse than they had me had I not gotten there when I had. They were becoming desperate in their endeavors."

When she had been captured, he had recklessly lunged headlong into coming after her. The place that they had dragged her to had been a veritable fortress. Which seemed a non issue when there had been nothing, no matter how much had been laid between them, would have stopped him. He had not even waited for Ignis to form a coordinated plan of attack before coming to break her free. He had not waited at all. As soon as he had heard of her capture, he had come running, without thought to anything but saving her. He had never done anything so impulsively dangerous before and the display of power that he had unleashed when he had arrived had been unlike anything she had ever seen him do either. There had been a raw edge of desperation there that had awed her. It had frightened her to think that he had come so quickly but it had awed her too. Never though, had she been afraid that he would hurt her. It was a sight that she would always remember and always relish when it had been for _her_ sake that he had done it.

"After all that we have been through, you cannot shield me from this," she tells him earnestly. "We cannot take the next step with secrets between us. I will not revert back to us bantering back and forth as we first started."

He chuckles at her accusatory tone, not the least bit repentant for intentionally playing the arrogant jerk before.

"But we had so much fun when we did that," he argues lightly.

"Maybe _you_ had fun," she says with a mock sniff. "But I was sorely tempted to strange you on occasion."

"With these gentle hands?" he teases, taking hold of each of them and kissing them in turn.

"Well maybe not strangle," she amends sheepishly. "My favorite fantasy was to flatten your hair."

He barks out a loud laugh, pressing her hands on each side of his face.

"You do know just where I am weakest."

"Of course," she says feigns haughtiness. "I studied you as much as you studied me."

He gives her another of his rare smiles before he turns to stare out at the city skyline in front of them.

Somehow this place, so high above the streets of Nihilsomno, had become their little sanctuary. In sight of all but too high up to actually see. It offered them a clear view of the skies above and the wondrous galaxy of lights below. It had been the place where they had first met and was now where they came to be completely alone. Where they could only exist with each other and forget the world outside for a few brief moments. She stops to appreciate the view when she notices the shadow that has settled over his face. Unable to bear watching him sink into that endless abyss of distortion, she presses her hands against his face to gain his attention again. When he reluctantly turns his head to look at her, she shakes her head at him.

"Please, do not draw away from me," she pleads. "Not now. I need you to speak to me. Tell me what they did."

He manages to smirk at her which means he is about to say something mischievous in order to distract her.

"There was a time not so long ago that you said I was tolerable until I opened my mouth."

"You still are _only_ tolerable then sometimes," she says teasingly, rubbing her nose against his. "But that was only when you spoke to try and get a rise out of me."

"You always look so stunning when your hackles are raised," he compliments with both sincerity and teasing. "I love to see the fire flash in your violet eyes."

She harumphs in response, removing her hands from his face to turn her nose at him.

"Do you mean my 'strange' eyes?"

"Have I apologized properly yet for behaving so badly?" he asks softly, reaching for her hand again.

"No, but you can _show_ me how sorry you are by answering my question."

"There was a question?"

"Jerk."

"But I am _your_ jerk," he reassures, drawing her closer to himself. "You will remember that, won't you?"

"Why do you sound unsure whether I will remember?" she asks, leaning against his shoulder on a sigh.

"I would not want you to find someone more suitable for you when you leave me tomorrow."

"Who would be more suited to me than you?"

"Stella," he says in warning. "We both know that... things will be difficult. This separation will be long."

"Are you saying you want to be free to find someone else?" she asks, suddenly unsure herself. She jerks away so she can read his face.

His grip tightens possessively around her and pulls her back against him before he growls into her ear. "Never!" he vows vehemently.

"Then what are you saying?"

"That the world may be forced to tolerate the Undead and listen to our authority but I have still not found the body of that monster."

"He was mortally wounded though. You were the one that inflicted it."

"I did, but I still feel so ill at ease. There are still people missing."

"We will find out what happened to them," she says confidently. "You need not worry. This is a fresh start now and it was you who accomplished it. Everything else will sort itself out."

"The whispers have been silent," he says flatly.

"Have they ever been silent before?"

"Not usually for this long," he replies uncomfortably. "It feels as if they are being blocked by something else. I do not feel as if this is all over yet."

"Noctis," she says in worry. "Should I stay?"

"No," he says with a firm shake of his head. "No need to stay when you have to go."

"If you think it unsafe, I would stay."

"Maybe it _is_ safe and I am merely making up excuses so that I can keep you here," he suggests with a smirk firmly in place.

"What happened to the guy that wanted me to run from him?" she chides.

"He decided he wanted to run right after you," he replies with a cheeky grin and she has to laugh at how goofy he looks.

"It really is over isn't it?" she asks, but she starts to doubt that. He looks too resolute, though he tries to cover it over with a smirk. "We never did figure out what their ultimate plan was besides to poison us and we know that would not have been successful."

It had also seemed mundane considering how many facilities and man power had been devoted to it. There had to have been something much bigger that they had not figured out.

"It does not matter. There are none left to finish it anyway," he shrugs, but she can see that it bothers him too. "But at least we know that the Crystals are not really all gone afterall."

"Noctis..."

"It is all, all right, Stella," he reassures her, pressing her against his chest again to keep her from saying anything else. "But are _you_ sure you are all right?"

"Why would I not be?"

"You know what I mean."

"You gave me the antidote and I am fine," she says, a touch curious that he would bring it up now. "That was ages ago. Stop trying to distract me."

"I am trying to pretend that we are normal."

"Why would you want to be normal?"

"You like being known as an Undead?"

"Why not? You are one to talk when it is you who likes the goddess of the dead. You said she was beautiful, in fact."

"Are you jealous?"

"No, but it is further reason for me not to want to be normal."

"I am more than just abnormal."

"And I would not love you so much if you were not."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course."

"Women like you do not belong with men like me."

"How would you know that?"

"They just… do not."

"Well then I will gladly prove you wrong," she says stubbornly.

"I am... not in my right mind you know," he says to try and dissuade her. "Some would say that I was actually insane."

"Do you love me?"

"Of course I do," he says with such quickness that there is not doubt of his sincerity.

"Then trust me," she says. "Trust that no matter what, I will always return to you."

"But why would you return to one that was as delusional as me?"

"Because I love you."

"That is not very rational."

"Well, nobody ever said love was rational," she reasons, pulling one of his spikes to show her irritation at him. "There is one thing I would like though."

"What is that?"

"If you're determined to be 'normal' can we be a normal couple and enjoy our last night together by pretending we do not carry the burden of the world on our shoulders?"

He struggles within himself visibly before he releases a very long sigh.

"I can give you that," he promises with a low whisper.

"Good," she says, giving him an assessing look. "Because I really would rather not start our long separation from each other thinking you are a jerk."

The laugh that he issues in response swells like a flower within her chest. She is so full of optimism and hope in this moment. Her biggest hope is that their separation is not as long as they both feared.


	37. Ventosus

**Prompt: **#36 Wind

**Summary: **Their time is coming to a close.

**A/N: **The Lost Series

Ventosus is Latin for, "windy, breezy".

_**Ventosus**_

"You are intangible."

"How do you mean?"

"One minute I think I understand you and the next, I have no idea what you will do or say next."

"Like a mystery hero that is simply irresistible."

"More like trying to catch wind in a jar," she corrects with a deep sigh.

"Are you warm enough?"

"See? Right there," she says, trying to make her point. "You pretend not to care and then you do."

"I did say that I like you," he reminds her.

As if she were going to be forgetting _that_ any time soon. Her heart still flutters from recalling them.

"Because I am your entertainment."

"Were you expecting me to fawn and coddle you?" he asks and if his tone were not enough of an indication of how disgusted and appalled he thought such a thing, his face is. The notion seems downright distasteful to him.

So, it obviously, raised her blood pressure in response.

"Have I implied that I wanted such treatment from you?" she demands.

"What _are _you implying then, _Princess_?"

"Can't you just be civil?"

"Like all those other phony diplomats that we are both subjected to all day long?" he asks, with a scoff. "You want me to _pretend_?"

"I would rather you not be ridiculous," she snaps back. The very suggestion that he pretend anything, let alone imitating those miscreants is cringe worthy. As annoying as he can be, she could truthfully say that he has never been false. Fickle, confusing, exasperating and annoying, yes. But never fake. He was nothing at all like the men at court. He was nothing like any man she had ever met.

"You are getting away from the point," he says in a chiding tone that sounds full of obliging patience.

"Which is?"

"Are you warm enough now?" he asks again, quirking his eyebrow in that way that tests her patience and she grits her teeth when she realizes that this time, it was _her_ fault that they were off subject to begin with. "I ask because your shakes would be to your disadvantage when we are attacked in about five minutes."

"What?"

"We are currently being surrounded and they will be making a move shortly," he says with casual boredom in his tone. How mundane he made it all sound. "So, I ask yet again, are you warmed up enough?"

"How many are there?"

"A lot," he says and that does not sound very good at all.

"But, it's still storming out there," she says dumbly.

"It seems, they have gotten smarter and are prepared for that. Probably trying to take advantage of our weakened state," he comments with a shrug. "They do not come alone this time either."

So, a countless number of opponents and a Bahamut to make things even more interesting. Well, outings with him were never in fear of a dull moment, were they? If she cannot say anything else, she can truthfully state that this entire interlude with him has been the most exciting of her life. She does not think she will ever forget this entire experience with him.

"I think you will find me quite able to handle myself," she states.

"Best keep that fiery spirit," he advises with a smirk.

"Don't I always," she replies just the right amount of cheek.

He gives her a brief nod and approaches her with a large rock in his hand in offering.

"Here," he says, motioning for her to take it. "If they get past me, this may deter them if you land a blow to the head."

Then he makes his way to the mouth of the cave to give her a moment to herself. An unspoken courtesy which has been one of many that he has given her during the course of their time together. Something else that is endearingly considerate of him. Which was so the opposite of how he spoke to her.

"Our journey together reaches it's end, _Princess_," he says with his back to her. "And when it has, you need to go to those you trust. _Only_ to those that you trust."

"What is it that you have been keeping from me?" she asks gently. Not in her usual annoyed tone. "Will you finally tell me?"

He releases a sigh and she can tell that he will not try his usual diversion this time. Which means that whatever he is about to say will be spoken with absolute seriousness. This observation has her bracing herself for something she knows must be terrible.

"For many years now my friends and I have suspected that certain people in the government, _my_ government, has been experimenting," he pauses, seeming to consider his next words. "They were testing people. People like us." He turns to look at her pointed, as if to wordlessly make the point of just what _kind_ of people they were targeting for these experiments. "Our investigation has made a lot of headway the last few weeks and this lame attempt at getting rid of me tells me two things. One, that they know I am on to them. Two, they are also targeting you too."

"What are they doing it for?"

"I do not know for sure. I do not even know who the leader is," he says, frustration evident in his voice. "I only know him by the name, The Wise One."

"The Wise One," she repeats. The codename strikes a cord of recognition in her. "Is he…?"

"He's a priest. _The _priest," he clarifies. "The one that has been running a menace in the background for ages."

"No one has ever caught or seem him," she states.

"I do not have to look anymore," he replies with a glint in his eye. "I know he will be coming for me."

"What does he want with you?"

He shrugs as if its of little consequence. As if that little detail that did not worry him over much.

"He seems to want you too."

"Me?" she asks, not sure if she believes that. "It cannot just be that I can channel the Crystal too."

"That probably is _one_ of the reasons," he says with a quirk of his lips that say he has lost his seriousness again.

"Why are you so sure he wants me?" she asks instead of taking the bait for _that_ remark.

"I would think that were obvious, Princess," he says, looking far too pleased with himself and not making a lick of sense by looking so either. "Now, no more dallying. They come swiftly and we need to be in position. Stay close to me and you will be all right."

"Position?" she asks, thinking that they were already in a good position where they were in the cave.

The expectant look he shoots her galvanizes her to step up beside him anyway.

"Not much longer now, _Princess_," he says, handing her his sharp dagger too. Now she has a weapon in both hands and she is not sure how much help they can really be when there are so many against them outside, no doubt, fully armed.

"I never know what you mean," she says with a long suffering sigh.

The first bullet to fly past them makes an echoed 'ping' sound as it just misses their heads. Soon followed by a whole barrage of them. Cutting off any further opportunity to talk, they both spring into defensive action. She makes sure to keep to his side in an attempt to give themselves as much of an advantage as possible. They would only make it out of this if they worked together. No more petty bickering. They were unison now.

"I suppose you have a plan considering we are at a gross disadvantage," she states over the ringing of the many bullets trying to hit them. "Being that our powers are useless with the storm and I only a rock and knife while you have one knife."

"We use what we have and improvise," he says as if that solves the entire mystery. He makes sure she is properly shoved back behind him just before the barrel of a long gun appears close to their faces. Quick as lightning he whacks the barrel at an upwards angle, catching their first assailant cleanly in the face before swinging it around smoothly and shooting the man dead.

Reaching back, he thrusts the gun into her chest, causing her to drop her rock, before jumping back into position to gain another gun from the next assailant and firing into the barely visible sheets of rain. She shoves his dagger into the pocket of her pants and starts to fire from her newly acquired weapon, she spies him take down one opponent after another in quick succession before leaping down from rock to rock as graceful as if on strings, dodging bullets along the way and firing back. If she had heard of anyone doing such a thing she would have thought they were exaggerating the details. She had never thought it would be possible to even attempt such a dangerous maneuver but there he was and if she were not so intent on offering him some kind of cover, she would gawk at him. She is not sure what scares her most, that he can fight just as lethally as if his powers were not necessary to make him so efficient a killer or of him breaking his fool neck for taking such a risk with such methods. Or maybe it is because she finds him utterly glorious as he does and she needs to follow his lead.

"I must be crazy too," she mutters to herself just before she runs into the open and begins her own long hurtle downward to follow him.

To her immense relief, she finds that the boulders are not as slippery as they appear, considering that there is a lot of rushing water saturating them. If anything, the extra slipperiness actually helps in dodging the many bullets that are currently flying about her as she hops, leaps and jumps from each boulder in a quick descent that would have scared her had she not been so much more afraid of getting shot. One other advantage with the heavy rain is that the aim of their attackers could not be accurate with it hindering their targeting. She manages to stay on her feet, but stumbles as she hits the ground before following behind Noctis into the thickness of the trees.

"Do not look back!" he shouts, taking her hand and zigzaging swiftly between the trees. Bullets splinter the rough bark and she has to cover her face as they run.

"Are we trying to get our selves killed so that they cannot capture us?"

"They are not shooting to kill," he answers over his shoulder. "And they will not follow us when they have unleashed the Bahamut now."

Her eyes look up just in time to see the large winged creature make its first pass above them with a loud roar of challenge. From her vantage, the creature looks double in size and she has never wished for her powers more than in that moment.

"Keep moving," he advises loudly, without breaking his stride.

How he can make his way with such low visibility is astounding. It is like he had lived out here in this endless sea of green all his live. Yet, it is this surety in his step that earns her trust, has had it from the beginning, to continue following his lead without protest.

"Quick as the wind you accuse me of being," he comments cheekily.

"How can you joke at a time like this?"

"Pro does it all the time," he replies. "It helps…but, he's better at it than I am."

The Bahamut makes another sweep, this time blasting out a ball of blue fire as it does.

Noctis tugs at her hand with a hard jerk and leads her towards a section of thinner trees as they narrowly miss the ones that are collapsing and it is only when she sees where he is leading them that she tries to snatch her hand back.

"But he will see us!"

"Not just him!" he yells back, keeping a firmer hold of her hand as he pulls her along with him again.

"What are you talking about?" she shouts over the roaring and the thundering. Then, she can hear it, faintly. She can hear something else. A noise that leveled just above the sounds of the storm.

An airship!

A loud canon booms, causing the Bahamut to make a swift retreat in the opposite direction as three dark objects fly out of the cargo hold. Dark objects that... are not objects at all. People. Those are people. Three men!

"Ah! The cavalry's here," announces Noctis, with a pleased chuckle, bringing them to a momentary half as he tries to see in which direction they would make their landing.

"Why are they jumping _out_ of the airship?" she asks, recognizing who they are instantly now.

"They were only hitching a ride."

"So, now we are five in a drenching storm with no shelter and no powers," she cannot help but bring out. Seeing as this is the same man that had been worried about whether she were warm enough just a few minutes before.

"No worries, Princess," he says pointing at the parachuting forms of his friends. Then he is pulling her along with him again. "You do not know Ignis like I do. He prepares for everything."

"Everything?" she asks, daring to hope by how optimistic he looks now.

"_Everything_," he answers. "I would bet my life on it."

Then she is only left to stare at him quizzically as he starts to holler out a greeting to his friends.


	38. Contages

**Prompt: **#40 Touch

**Summary:** She's got to show him that touching her thus, was unacceptable.

**A/N: **The Dragon Knight Series

Contages is Latin for, "contact; a touch".

_**Contages**_

"Take that! You clunk of junk!"

"That the best you can come up with, Grunt?"

The night's natural silence is broken with the clashing sounds of colliding metal and the occasional discharge of a high caliber firearm. There is the sound of metal cracking open, bones breaking, men cursing and all the usual mayhem that accompanies the sounds of battle. All sounds that she loves immensely. The only minor difference is the almost comical commentary that accompanies each blow and the equally eyebrow raising retorts from each of the friends as they fight. The camaraderie and candid words exchanged were proof of just how well bonded each of them were to each other. She secretly envies what they have. She has never had anything like that.

He is the one that catches her eye first and the one that keeps it. When before, she had paid him no mind whatsoever when her objective had been only on the Prince. Now, he captured her attention more than the Prince ever had. He has her keen focus whenever he is in proximity. She cannot pinpoint the exact moment that, that had changed. But, he was the first and only man to ever touch her. Not in a physical sense, but on an emotional level that she had never known she had within her. His unwanted and brutal observations breeched emotional walls that she has erected all her life. They were things that nobody had ever taken the time to notice about her and he saw them so clearly. As if she had not hidden them at all. Men, especially, never took the time to really _see_ her or to find her as nothing more than a vessel in which they could try to slake their lust or an opponent for them to best. How he had seen her, the _real_ her, when no one, not even the Wise One had, was incredible and frightening. They had always pressed upon her that the enemy was stupid. She has come to the conclusion that they are crafty, intelligent and lethal in a way that was more damaging than any blade could ever achieve.

As she watches his large, muscular frame move with surprising agility and stunning strength, she can concede that he has conquered her. It is a fact that she will only admit to herself, of course. The admission bubbles forth a deep resentment towards him for so effortlessly crushing her walls as easily as he crushed the armor of the Wise One's minions. She hates him as assuredly as she cares for him. Through him, she has discovered a side of herself she had not been acquainted with and exposed her to the deplorable vulnerability that she was suffering. The vulnerability of feelings. This, had nothing to do with anything but _her._ Which was also something new, when nothing had ever been solely about her, ever.

So, she waits until he has been separated from the others and is surrounded by five grunts before she leaps from her position on the low rooftop she has been watching him from. She lands right behind him in the very circle they have entrapped him in and a part of her is surprised that he does not instinctively swing his huge battle axe towards her as she stands.

"This one belongs to me!" she hisses at the helmet faced grunts. Her weapon is poised to strike any who dare make a move on _her_ prey.

"You should be sneaking away now, Knight," he says, sounding disgruntled. He slowly lowers his weapon but he's smart enough not to release it entirely as the grunts turn their focus on the other three. Not even when they are left alone does he lower his weapon. Proving that he wasn't stupid at all. "Didn't Stella tell you, you were free?"

"You really think that I would run?" she demands incredulously. "You're an idiot if you really believed that."

"Giving you the option was important."

"Not when you already knew what I would choose," she challenges him with a steady grip on her sword. She was back in her knight's armor and for the first time since coming, feels she is on solid footing with him.

"I did," he answers bluntly. "But I can't say I didn't hope for different."

"You imagined I'd find myself a little cottage, somewhere and start a herb garden and weave baskets?" she scoffs.

"I didn't want to choose between killing you or not," he admits honestly.

The sudden, queer pinching sensation in her chest makes her feel short of breath at the implications of his words.

"So you knew there would be no reformation for me," she concludes and does not understand why this makes her feel so sad.

"It was never about changing you," he reiterates again. "Never. It was always about opening your eyes to the man you serve so blindly."

"So all of you come up with this crap theory about how his goal is to kill _all_ of us?"

"It's not a theory, Knight," he says with a shake of his head. "It's not a theory anymore, anyway."

"You expect me to believe that about a man that has taken care of me?"

"Has he really?" he throws at her challengingly and takes a step closer to her. "He gave you a place to stay. He made you into a killer and he lied to you all the while. He was never been tender or loving or careful with you, has he? Cause that's not caring."

"How dare you!" she shouts resentfully. "You think you see so much but you're just as blind. _Your_ people are the reason the world is so ravaged. You and your idiotic worship and patronage to Etro. Don't you realize how stupid that is?"

"It's got nothing to do with that."

"It has _everything_ to do with it," she cries. "Don't you realize what she's done?"

"She gave us a heart," he says gently. "She gave you one too."

"And I hate her for it!" she shouts, taking a swing at him in anger in order to try and keep him at a distance.

"No, you don't," he says gently.

A warm hand brushes moisture from her cheek and it is only then that she realizes that she is crying. A resentful growl escapes her lips as she takes another swing at him and this time, her blade catches against his side. She's not sure why she is so stunned when she takes in the sight of his torn shirt and bloodied wound a moment later. She gapes at it in shock for many beats before she meets his compassionate stare. Why was it compassionate? Why wasn't it furious for injuring him? Why did he never react as he should?

"There," he says with acceptance. His eyes say what his lips do not need to. That he had known she would one day hurt him like this and he has already forgiven her for it. He has already made peace with it.

Forgiven her so easily and she thinks he's a fool and the most fascinating creature she has ever beheld.

"Did you know that you were not the first one the Wise One sent to kill Noct?" he asks. The change in subject is so sudden that she merely frowns at the question. "A week before you came to Nihilsomno, they tried to kill him and Stella while they'd been lost in the woods. Then he tried to get Stella to kill him. That failed too. Then he sent you. You were the back up plan and you failed too. If you go back, there's no telling what he'll do to you."

The words sound so ludicrous, but the sincerity and conviction on his face give her pause. Liars were good, but she knew him. She _knew_ him and she knew he wasn't lying or keeping anything from her now. It dawns on her that he never really had been to begin with.

"Don't go, Knight," he urges her, clutching the sound at his side and taking a step towards her.

"Stay _back_!" she cries with another swing to deter him, but he avoids it this time. "You're just trying to confuse me in order to change my loyalties. You've been playing me from the beginning."

"You willing to take the chance that I'm lying?" he asks. "I have no reason to lie to you."

Both their ears perk at the sound of an approaching airship. She can tell from the many shouts and the distinctive sounds of the engines that it was from the Wise One. Had this convoy been sent to rescue her? It is only then that she remembers to notice the things around her.

"They've come for me," she states, trying to sound haughty and smug but only managing to sound regretful and unsure. "Why would they come for me if he wanted me dead?"

"He knows now that you're a weakness."

"To him?" she exclaims with a strangled laugh at the absurdity. "The Wise One needs no one."

"To _me_," he replies.

"What?"

"Because of how I feel about you."

"Like an orphaned stray that you wanted to release back into the wild," she accuses bitterly.

"You really don't get it, do you, Knight. You don't see what's between us."

"All I see is that you are my enemy and you failed," she says with a sniff that does not sound indignant at all. The pinching sensation in her chest grows more painful with every lie that she forces past her lips. "Why do you think _you're_ special then?"

"If you're my weakness, it's an advantage over Noct."

"You're a fool."

"I think you know aggravating me isn't gonna work," he chides.

Actually chides her at a time like this!

The airship is coming ever closer. She estimates that she has about a minute left before she can make her escape. But why does she still hesitate?

"You can't expect me to believe you fancy yourself in love with me," she manages to scoff for real this time. Even when she feels a measure of excitement in her heart.

"I don't _fancy_ anything," he says. He knows how much longer they have too, by the urgency she can read in his features.

"You don't even know my name," she says incredulously. It still smarted that he had never asked.

"Yeah, I do," he replies.

"Liar."

"Never."

"You're an idiot, you know."

"Yeah, but not the way you're thinking," he replies, looking up at the hovering airship.

It starts to fire down in an attempt to hit him but he still delays long enough to give her another pointed stare that she cannot decipher. There were far too many emotions in his gaze that she could never weed through them all. Without warning, he runs to her, snatches her body so that it is crushed against his and his mouth is on hers before she can even fight him off for taking such liberties. His kiss is not gentle nor is it brutal. It is a passionate mix to prove his point. Whatever that point maybe but she can actually _feel_ all the emotions she has just seen in his intense stare a moment earlier. She finds herself giving in to the need to drink them in from his lips. Then he is releasing her too soon.

"Stay alive, Selene," he says. "You stay _alive_."

Then, he is gone with his friends and there are hands grabbing her with voices shouting at her to move. But, even though her feet move, she stares at where he had been and still feel the imprint of his hands about her bare waist and the ghosting heat of his lips on hers.


	39. Familiaris

**Prompt: **#47 Belong

**Summary: **A look back while we wait.

**A/N: **The Distortion Series.

Familiaris is Latin for, "belonging to a household/friendly; intimate".

_**Familiaris**_

The four of them have always been an elite quartet. A group of lethal enforcers that people had begun to fear and respect, Undead and 'normal' people alike. Then, they became five with the addition of Stella. Stella, who had improved what they had already established. She had added the heart and emotion where they had been lacking. Truth is, men just don't feel the same as women do and her insights always made things easier for him. Pro was the Mouth. The one who always know what to say in any given situation. Glad was the Muscle and the strength. The one that could be counted on to force their way through. He, was the Brain. He was the one that figured out what was what and what was not. The one that always thought things through. Noct... Noct had been the Head. The one that kept everything together. The one that generated and empowered the rest of them. All of them were important to the functioning of the entire body. But Noct was the most important of them all. What good was a body without a head?

What's how they've felt all these years without him. Just like any headless body, they had been floundering around without a purpose and without a direction. Take Stella away too and where did that leave them? Completely devoid of personality and feeling too. A hollow entity that was useless. They really _had_ been useless without the two major parts that had made them invincible. He considers it his biggest failure that he hadn't stopped it from happening in the first place. He should have noticed sooner. He should have _done_ something sooner. Instead, he had allowed this stalemate to happen until Stella was able to decipher his message. The one that had granted her safe passage into the city. Five years of being forced to wait and do nothing. None of them were any good at doing nothing. So they had planned and planned and executed a few fail safes while they waited. This lack of activity was another reason why Noct's actions these last years didn't make any sort of sense. Noct didn't like doing nothing either. They were all people of action.

He has spent this time analyzing everything that had happened leading up to where they are now. Growing up, they'd all known that they were different. Different and mostly because of Noct. Noct made them special and the four of them banded together like brothers with a common bond. Along the way he had revealed information regarding illegal testing on people like them. Other people that had gifts. These were given the code name, "The Undead," because they _should_ be dead, but instead had been spared and given amazing abilities. People who possessed an incredible amount of capability and channeled them from the Crystal. They were blamed for the rapidly depleting supply because of it. Everything about these experiments was very covert, hush-hush. Nobody who ever went looking for answers had ever been found again. So Noct had wanted to keep things close to the chest and not do anything more than digging around for more information. He had thought it was only their government that had been involved, but they found out later that it had involved a whole underground sect with many followers and sympathizers. Followers of a man they knew only as, "The Wise One".

The organization was not limited to only one nation either, but was generously and privately funded by them _all_. They hadn't realized how global it had been until Noct had been lost in the forest with Stella in an effort to kill him. Only after they had regrouped and after Stella had been convinced to try and kill Noct, had they realized how bad things really were. He should have figured that out sooner too. Before Noct had been captured. He's seen the scars on Noct's body, proof of what they'd done to him while in captivity. He and the guys had been so angry when they had seen the extent of his scars. That they, "_he_", had, had the nerve to do something like that to his future King. He had vowed to himself after that, that he would never let that happen to Noct for a second time. So the next time he and the other two had gotten themselves caught instead of letting them take Noct again. They had all known their captivity wouldn't have been long anyway. Noct and Stella were a formidable duo together and a more tactical plan would have worked to their best advantage when those two were on the outside, breaking in. The time after that, the opposition had gotten really desperate. They had lost a lot of good people that day and in the end, those monsters had taken Stella. He's not sure which had pissed him off more, them taking Stella or Noct running after them like a madman, without waiting for him to come up with a solid plan before he did so.

Thinking over everything as much as he has, he thinks he and Pro were the fortunate ones in all this. They were the only two that hadn't fallen in love along the chaotic journey they were still on. Noct, as much as he tried to push her away, had fallen for Stella like a brick, at first sight. He'd known as soon as Noct said he met someone and knew that whoever the lady had been, Noct was already too far gone to save. Trust Noct to fall for the one woman that would complete their family. So Noct had been the first one to fall. Then it had been Glad who. Which, made sense considering the guy was a softie at heart. Not only had he fallen, he'd been knocked down by the Dragon Knight too. Glad had been more torn than Noct ever had been and that had really sucked. He has never doubted any of his brothers' integrity and he'd known all along that Glad would have never betrayed them. Only, it seemed Glad hadn't been so sure. He's not sure whether or not it was a good thing that Glad had never gotten a chance to prove it to himself. Glad was changed after that whole encounter and the opportunity to prove himself never came when the Dragon Knight never returned. The subject was still a tough one and they had all mutually agreed, and silently too, _never_ to mention it unless absolutely necessary. Sometimes though, Glad's face got this far off look to it and he knows that his friend is thinking about her and wondering. Wondering whether or not the Wise One killed her or if she had gotten away. Her body had not been among any of the dead they had encountered in their battles nor during their invasions on the various facilities.

What a mess love was. Neither Noct nor Glad had ever actually gotten together with the women they had wanted. Each separated because of circumstance. Noct had... well, who knew exactly what happened there. But he was going to find out now. Glad had been pretty doomed too but his was just more obvious. It had been like watching a train wreck. Couldn't stop it and couldn't help but watch either. The Dragon Knight had been a bit skittish and not at all good with her people skills but there had been something about her that had appealed to Glad. They had all seen through her bravado, that it was that she had just been scared. Which, naturally, softened them all to her in some way and especially so for Glad. He's always considered himself a man of logic over emotion and seeing how love had treated his brothers, he's not too keen on the fact that their patron goddess had given them a heart and feelings to begin with. The only kinda feeling that had never failed him had been the whole body that they had all made up. One that love had failed. Had failed _him_. Now, he was bound and determined to get it all back. He's been waiting patiently all this time because a brain, muscles and a mouth couldn't do it. The Heart, Stella, needed to be there so they could get the Head in order. Now that everyone was there, he's feeling more confident than he has been for a long time. Patience really was something worth pursuing, despite Pro's protests.

A beeping sound breaks his reflective thoughts and he blinks down at the monitor. Then, rubs his eyes beneath his glasses and blinks at it again in disbelief.

"Pro!"

"What? That thing finally done?" demands Pro, looking predictably disgruntled at having to wait.

"Not everything," he answers, looking down at the results again. "But the preliminary results are in."

"Well, what does it say?" Pro demands irritably.

"Did Glad make it back to the safehouse?"

"He's on his way back from the store right now."

"Stella, are you there?" he asks, tapping his ear piece and not even receiving static as a reply. "Glad?"

"Yep," is the immediate response.

"You on your way back?"

"In sight of the building," replies Glad, sounding distracted and annoyed. "I had to get rid of a tail, but I'm gonna be on my way up there in about five."

"Stella probably took her communicator off when she was taking a shower," he reasons, trying to keep his voice cool.

"You're making me nervous with that look on your face," Pro blurts out.

"I might be nervous myself," he admits.

"Uhoh," both Glad and Pro state at the same time.

"I think maybe the machine is suffering some malfunction," he tries to explain away.

"No, you're nervous about the results," corrects Pro stubbornly. "Spill. Now."

"I'd rather everyone heard it together, but let me run this test again while Glad is getting back to the safehouse," he says, bustling with his equipment again. "No harm in doing it again to make sure."

"Okay now, I'm getting _really _scared," grumbles Glad. He can hear the sounds of heavy foot and car traffic from that end. Glad did not blend into a crowd very well and more often than not ended up being followed by someone. Often, it was women who followed Glad around more than cops too. He thinks it's because Glad has that bad boy look that women seem to fawn over. He has been told that Glad's scar adds to his masculine appeal. Which only, ironically, embarrassed Glad instead of giving him a big head about the attention. It was always a funny sight to see so big and buff a guy like Glad get all bashful and start blushing.

"So Glad," Pro starts with that glint in his eyes that always spelled trouble. "That tail, what did she look like?"

"Can it, Grunt," growls Glad. "A tail's a tail, no matter the make and model!"

"And by model, would that mean a minivan or sports sedan?"

"Get a life."

"I have a life!"

"Living vicariously through me!"

"You didn't specify the how."

"Shaddup you."

"Come on! Share the details!"

"On how I lost them? Sure, I will. I gave them the slip."

Even though one might not think such a thing were possible with someone of Glad's size, but the man could be pretty agile and limber when it was warranted. But too many people underestimated Glad. Most of the time that didn't bode too well for the individual and he loved to watch it every time.

"Ignis, quit having Pro stall for you and tell us what the results say," Glad accuses.

"I'm not letting him do anything," he says indignantly, though a smirk crosses his lips and he shares a conniving look with Pro.

"I may not be there, but I can see that!" shouts Glad.

They didn't even need to talk or see each other for any one of them to pick up what the other was feeling and help out without being asked. He throws Pro a grateful smirk and it makes him wonder, for the umpteenth time, why Noct had pulled away and did a complete one-eighty on them. It didn't make sense. Noct would never have done that. _Never_.

Barking, angry curses ring through their ears like a high frequency surge and he almost takes his earpiece out in reaction.

"OUCH! What the frak, Glad!" shouts Pro, before he can.

"What happened, Glad?" he asks, sounding more calm though he starts stretching his jaw to try and pop his ears.

"I'm in the flat and Stella's gone!"

"What?"

"And it looks like she left in a hurry. It doesn't look like she has any clothes on either!"


	40. Inhio

**Prompt: **#13 Want

**Summary: **Answers. She wants answers and only has more questions.

**A/N: **The Distortion Series

Inhio is Latin for, " yearn for, want, desire".

_**Inhio**_

The scream is still escaping her mouth as her body whirls around to face him. If she were a fainting sort, she is sure she would have, dead away, at that moment. For the first time, in a very long time, she feels the fear and rush of being stalked by a formidable hunter. For a hunter, he undoubtedly is and always has been. She has never met anyone with so keen a sense as him and it warms her that he still has it. He stands so still in quiet observance of her that one might question whether he was really a statue and not a man of flesh. He looks ready for her to run, like any frightened prey would react by such a start. So she knows she will _not_ do that. At least not now, anyway.

Intuitively, she reads the alertness in his stance and his rattled breathing is elevated. Telling her that he is moved with her presence as much as she is with his. She quickly runs over her limited options and finds that none of them would be successful. One thing was for certain though, she needed to run. He was not ready. _She_ was not ready for this either. No matter how much she wanted to press the issue, they still did not know how much he remembered and how much he did not or what kind of a transition he has gone through. There was no way to accurately tell when he spoke so little, when he did at that. So she needed to get out of this corner that he has trapped her in, but every scenario running through her mind seems to falter with the knowledge of one brutal fact. Noctis can teleport and Erebus has proven that he still can. So the only way to get away is…

The cocking of that helmeted head scrambles the rest of her thoughts.

"If you plan to take me in, will you let me put some clothes on first," she states, clenching her hands against the terry clothe.

A shaking of his head is her only answer.

"So I am to walk back to the castle with you in only a towel."

She has a feeling that he is amused, until he seems to notice something. His head peers at her right bicep curiously, directing her own gaze down to it.

"Do you recognize this?" she asks, peering between the old scar there and back up to his face. "You gave that to me."

His rumbling breath takes on a curious sound and he inclines his head at her again.

"Do you remember when you gave it to me?"

He does not shake his head, but only continues staring at her. Was it wrong to take hope from that? Was she merely grasping at anything to give her such? She wants so badly for him to remember.

"Are you that angry with me for taking so long to return to you that you no longer know me?" she chokes.

Faster than the blink of her eye, he teleports right into her face, the gleaming helmet not an inch away from her own. One of his hands, tangles itself in her wet hair while the other pulls her flush against him. He tugs on the strands to bring her face up to a better angle for him and she does not fight nor flinch. She knows that he means to stare at her as he used to do and it gives her more hope rather than despair.

"Why do you bear his name now?" she asks quietly, staring into that blank shell vainly, to try and look through the helmet for an answer.

He flinches at her question and releases her as abruptly as he had grabbed her, causing her body to fall back against the sink. She braces herself at the edge to steady her powerless knees.

"He's alive isn't he?" she asks, staring at his rigid back. "I should have realized the coincidence sooner, but nobody knew the name Erebus."

He jerks his head to glare at her from over his shoulder.

"Why?" she asks. "Please help me to understand."

He turns to face her fully again, his body threatening and ready. Then he lifts his left shoulder and looks at it before looking up at her.

She feigns nonchalance and absently tightens the knot keeping her towel closed around her naked body. She knows her provoking works when his rumbling breath sounds angered as he walks menacingly, over to her once again.

"Do _not_ think you can bully me around now, you _jerk_," she threatens, looking up into his helmet boldly. "I _know_ you are still _my_ jerk. You just need to remember that too." She takes advantage of this surprising statement and reaches quickly behind her, snatching the porcelain soap dish and smashing it against the side of his head.

The helmet does not crack but she is sure that the insides are vibrating and disorientating. As soon as his head jerks to the side, she pushes past him through the second bedroom doorway and slams it shut behind her. When she crosses over the next door, she slams that too and is speeding down the hallway and is out the front door in three heartbeats. When she gets into the hallway she easily dismisses the elevators and the stairs. Noctis may not be able to teleport between walls, but those two avenues would make it too easy for him, once he realized her path. Breathe caught in her throat, she spies exactly what she needs. A laundry chute. She dashes over it and cranks it open before climbing into it feet first.

"Thank you Ignis, for choosing a lower level flat," she says, getting herself into position when the door to the flat bursts open. She has just enough time to catch a glimmer of shiny black when she starts to speak. "It is I who will save you this time. Just wait for me, please!" she promises, before she lets go of her hold and starts flying down the chute at a fast pace.

The backs of her thighs soon begin to burn from the friction but it is not enough to hinder her descent. All she can do is grit her teeth, hold onto her towel and hope that the laundry bin was not just emptied. She keeps her arms crossed diagonally along her chest and flies out of the chute moments later. Then feels a sense of motion sickness. It takes her a moment to realize that the rolling sensation in her gut is the cart rolling away when she had landed inside it. She comes to a thudding halt when the bin strikes the thick concrete wall and she has a quick pause to thank the gods for not being injured. Then, she is soon throwing soiled garments out of her way as she sits up and manages to stumble out of the cart and hobbling unsteadily towards the dryers. Shaking her head to get her bearings, she notices various dry cleaning and washed clothing aligning the walls, to be returned to their owners and snatches one of each kind as she passes. The late hour works to her advantage because there are no workers here, only running machines. That is her only relief when her window is too small for her to believe that she was in the all clear just yet.

As she walks, she tears the plastic dry cleaning coverings and pulls on a long belted tunic and whips away the ties of the bag she has snagged. Feeling around inside, she is very thankful to encounter a pair of black leggings and ankle socks. Trust the tenants of such a posh residence would be very fashionable in their attire and this was something that she would have worn if given a choice. The only thing she needs now is shoes, but at least now, she was not in just a towel and completely barefooted.

She refuses to think about the fact that she does not know where she was going to run to now that the safehouse was no longer safe and merely hopes that Glad does not run into Erebus when he returns to the store. When she finally reaches the end of the laundry room, she opens the door cautiously before peering outside to check the hallways. Once satisfied that all is clear, she steps out and tries to run as fast as she can, hoping that it is leading her to an exit. Up ahead she sees, what looks to be a maid, entering into what can only be the employee's locker room and speeds over just in time to catch the door before it locks behind the woman. Immediately upon entering, she shuts the door behind her and leans against it to catch her breathe. Really breathe this time and closes her eyes to steady herself.

Her respite is not long before her arm is snatched and she's forced into another interior room, before that door is shut too.

"You're a hard one to catch up to, Princess of Tenebrae."

Her eyes flash open at the sound of that voice. That familiar voice that she has wondered about too, all these years.

"You…"

"I want to thank you."

"For what?"

"The warning you gave me all those years ago."

"Which one?" she asks, cautiously.

"All of them," is the solemn reply. "But this isn't the time to talk. That helmeted fiend…"

"That is Noctis," she interrupts.

"The _Prince_? How?"

"We are trying to figure that out."

"The one on the throne then?"

"Is an imposter. We do not know who that really is."

"How very… distorted."

"You do not know the half of it."

"If that is Prince Noctis and you are running from him…?"

"We believe he has been exposed to some sort of virus that seems to debilitate him mentally."

"Makes sense, but does not account for such an exact lookalike."

"What do you want?" she asks.

"I've had a long time to regret a decision made with ignorance."

"Why would Noctis go by the name, Erebus?" she demands, not at all curious about that statement of ignorance just yet.

"What? Why would he use _that_ name?"

"You tell me, since that is the name The Wise One used."

"Curious, but I wouldn't know anything about that."

"Then why are _you_ here?"

"To help," is the simple reply. "Come, we need to get you a pair of shoes."

A loud crackling sound in her ear makes her jump and her hand reflexively goes to her ear as she cringes. Then the in and out sounds of Glad yelling, Ignis instructing and Pro cursing reaches her. Their every other word is muffled but she can tell they have already found out that she is gone and thankfully, that Erebus was gone too. They seemed to not know she was still wearing her comm. She almost wants to whoop in excitement when she realizes that she had been so preoccupied in her thoughts that she had forgotten to take the earpiece out before taking her shower. It must now be waterlogged, which is why it was not working earlier. But it seems to be working now.

"Guys, can you hear me?" she asks, talking very carefully while tapping against her earpiece.

Three voices shout her name at once.

"Yes, I am in a room down in the basement. Long story," she says, before they can ask her a million questions at once. "But there is something that you should know first."

"There's something you should know too, Stella," replies Ignis grimly. "But you first."

"Selene is here," she states, staring at the Dragon Knight, who did not look so much like the woman that she had known so long ago.

Silence answers her statement, while the three of them seem to process this.

"Your turn, Ignis," she prods.

Ignis clears his throat whereas Pro and Glad remain silent.

"Preliminary results are in and I'm checking again to make sure they're not wrong," says Ignis in his instructing voice.

"What do they say?"

"That, the imposter, isn't an imposter."

"So that means Erebus is not Noctis?"

"No, it means that _both_ of them are Noctis. Genetically, there is no way to tell which is really our Noct."

* * *

><p>Well, there it is. :)<p>

Please check out the 26/08/11 Author's Note located in my Profile.


	41. Pridem

**Prompt: **#23 Past

**Summary: **How things came to be.

**A/N: **The Lost Series combines into the Undead Series.

Pridem is Latin for, " in times past".

_**Pridem**_

Amazing. That is the only word she can come up with to describe them, watching them as she is. She can understand Noctis just a little bit better by their interactions as a group. Noctis seems lighter and less tense with them around. There is a casual ease between the four of them that seemed the opposite of how Noctis has portrayed himself to her. This seemed to be the _real_ him. It had to be. For the affection was apparent. Even though, the insults flew around as they walked, but that was typical male speech. There was not even a hint of hostility between them. She had not met them officially before, but she has seen them from a distance and heard of them, of course. It would be interesting to see if Noctis' interactions with _her_ would change with the presence of his friends. There was no way to tell when all he had done thus far was make introductions and then they had been off on their way again. That is, after they got themselves sorted. So she wonders. Would he be more approachable and reasonable? Or would he be even more difficult and unlikeable?

Being nasty and unobliging alone was one thing, but she would definitely take exception if he decided to be that same way in front of his friends. She would not stand for the humiliation if he did.

"Hey Noct! Did you collect the Crystals for me?" asks Prompto, gaining her full attention. He had such an easy smile that one could not help but naturally smile back at him. He was obviously the joker of the group and she can see how he would easily create a hilarious monologue while fighting, as Noctis had suggested that he did.

She was not about to intrude upon their conversation, but she found she likes listening and chuckling at their various statements as they walk. There was not much else to do and their steady conversation was comforting when there had only been tension filled silence while she had been along with Noctis. This question though, was completely compelling, if not unusual.

"Why would I do that?" Noctis replies challengingly, but he has a humored look on his face that belies the snotty way the question is stated.

"Come on, man! Can't waste that stuffs."

"Stuffs?" asks Gladiolus incredulously.

"Yeah. Stuffs," answers Prompto. "Cause it's more than one."

"Simply saying, 'stuff' implies more than one anyway," corrects Ignis. He was the smart one. That was blatantly obvious on how he conducted himself and how he looked here and there around them constantly in observation. Noctis had been right. Ignis _did_ think of everything. His no nonsense way of taking over the situation by checking to make sure that she and Noctis were really okay and had been holding a bag with what they had needed. To be honest, she had not even _thought_ of some of the things he had been thoughtful enough to bring for her. All she can really remember is a blur of movement from him before he had even fully landed on his feet.

"Noct just went through hell and you thought he'd collect fu…rakkin' crystal dust for you?" Gladiolus growls, but it sounds less threatening with his censor of himself for her sake.

This consideration surprises her and also endears him to her immediately. It was obvious that the big hulking man was hard edges but soft heart.

"That's right!" cries Prompto with a snap of his finger. "We gotta keep the dirty talk down for the Princess."

"I would rather you called me, Stella."

"Stell, it is."

"Don't mind him," Gladiolus urges her.

Which only makes her like him more.

"Yeah, this one," Prompto tells her with a thumb directed at the bigger man. "Minds enough for the rest of us just fine."

"It'll be interesting to see Pro and Glad stop swearing," remarks Ignis with a grin on his face.

"That's bull shi…oes?"

"Shi..oes? Is that even a word?" Ignis asks with such a straight face that it makes her laugh out loud. The only indication that he is joking is the small quirk at the edges of his lips.

"Bulls have shoes?" Gladiolus prods with a raised eyebrow.

"Ah shut up! I'm making my own vocabulary as I go," retorts Prompto without any real heat.

"There goes our language as we know it," remarks Ignis.

"Let's make a bet then," suggests Gladiolus.

"Oh, _this_ I want to hear," says Noctis, full of eagerness.

"Let's see… whoever can make up the most colorful, non curse word."

"What's the take?" asks Ignis.

"A kiss from Stella!" grins Prompto mischievously.

Four pairs of eyes turn to stare at her and she tries not to stumble at such undivided attention from everyone when she had been very happy to just listen.

"What? How did _I_ get involved with the prize?" she asks, too stunned really to be upset. Having all of them looking at her so intently, all at once was decided disconcerting.

"Seeing as you're the reason we gotta watch the potty mouths," reasons Prompto.

Which, put in that way, made a lot of sense. She looks at Noctis at last and finds his face is carefully blank. Carefully so, which is another way of saying _dangerously_ so, but the other three do not mind him at all.

"It's gonna be awesome," pronounces Prompto, smacking his thigh in excitement.

"Do you agree to the terms, Stella?" Noctis asks, looking at her intently and his voice has taken on a tone she has not heard from him before.

"Only if I get to be the judge that decides the winner of the most… colorful metaphor," she says, surprising them all with her easy acquiescence.

"Wahoo!" cries Prompto and then elbows Noctis. "I _like_ her."

"Then you shall like this," says Noctis, with a strange look on his face. He reaches for his belt and pulls a small sack from one of the hoops to hand it to Prompto.

"Woh!" shouts Prompto excitedly, once he peaks into the contents of the sack.

"Shut the _frak_ up you Bobble headed fool," growls Gladiolus. "Any louder and they'll know exactly where we are."

"Just look at this man!" cries Prompo but he _does_ watch his volume this time. "This isn't Noct's usual Crystals."

"That would be because they are Stella's," replies Noctis, looking ahead with that careful look back on his face.

"Mine?" she asks, looking at the sack in Prompto's hands.

"Mine are blue," states Noctis.

"Yours are golden, Stell," says Prompto. "Made of awesome!"

"When did you have the opportunity?" she asks. "To collect them?"

"Oh…. sneaky Noct!" accuses Prompto, grinning from ear to ear as if he knew a secret.

"A little here and there, but mostly after that first night when your powers returned."

"Oh," she says rather dumbly. She is not sure why that knowledge makes her feel giddiness. Just by knowing that he had done such a thing. It seemed reminiscent of the olden days when knights took a lock of their lady's hair. Only, he was not keeping it for himself, but saving it for his friend. It was an incredibly thoughtful thing to do for his friend. It was _for_ his friend, yet why did it feel more like an intimate gesture between her and him instead?

"I thought Prompto might appreciate a different color," Noctis explains easily with a shrug.

"Genius, Noct!" praises Prompto. "Thanks, man."

"Give him a smooch too while you're at it," mutters Gladiolus sarcastically, with a roll of his eyes.

"Don't be jealous, Honey-kins."

"Say that again and I'll break your ugly mug."

"Hey! That almost sounded smooth," commends Prompto for Gladiolus' effort.

"Well, we will certainly be improving our vocabulary," mutters Ignis. "Thank you, Stella. We won't be sounding like uneducated idiots from now on."

She cannot suppress the giggle this comment provokes and hides it behind her hand.

"We _do_ need a lady in our group," observes Gladiolus thoughtfully.

"Girls are allowed?" she asks, raising her own eyebrow.

"She could definitely teach you how to be inventive with your insults," comments Noctis.

"Let you have it for an assh..."

"You didn't even last five seconds the both of you."

"Ass is not a curse word," she cannot help commenting.

"No?" ask Prompto in surprise.

"Not really."

"Still, that'll be considered cheating."

"I didn't say the whole word!'

"Then hurry and think of something else."

"Let you have it for being an arrogant aardvark?"

"Talk about pulling it out of your bum!" bellows Gladiolus with a hearty laugh.

"That certainly was inventive."

"It was," she concedes. "But not a winner."

"Ha! Told you straight," Gladiolus states, slapping Prompto on the back.

"Tough judge. I like that!"

"_Princess_," calls Noctis.

"Why is Noct being so formal?" Prompto whispers not so quietly.

"Shaddup!"

"Yes?" she asks, turning her attention to Noctis.

"This is where we separate," he says, inclining his head towards a cropping of trees.

"We are?" blurts out Prompto, before she can.

"It is necessary," Noctis states, looking like the unlikeable jerk that she also knew.

"What...?" Prompto starts but is swiftly cut off with just a glare from Noctis.

"Our adventure together ends here, _Princess_," he says again and looks to the direction she is to go one more time. "Straight through there is Tenebrae territory and it is not far to the nearest outpost."

"All this time, you were leading me back to my land?" she asks in confusion.

"Remember my advice."

"Only to go to someone I trust," she recalls, narrowing her eyes at him.

He nods in answer.

"How have we come so far in so short a period?" she asks. There was no way they could have reached the borders so quickly. It had seemed like they had been walking forever, but not _really_ forever.

"Noct, are you sure...?"

"You need to go back to your castle, _Princess,_" Noctis says, cutting off the concerned inquiry.

As if she were some helpless maiden who could do nothing else but get herself into trouble and need rescuing.

"You said I was in danger too. Would it not be more prudent to stay together?"

"Not if you go to someone you trust."

It is at the tip of her tongue to say she trusted _him_, but the inconsistent way that he acted around her, she was not sure that was entirely true. It felt like a brush off. That he had been merely _tolerating_ her presence because he knew how long their time would be, whereas she had, had not a clue.

"She shouldn't be going alone," states Gladiolus.

"She can handle it," Noctis replies dismissively and is completely offended instead of happy for his confidence. Because it is not confidence of her skill. It is more like a dismissal of something he did not feel like tolerating anymore. "Best be in your way in a hurry, _Princess_."

It is purely be circumstance and chance that she catches the quick look of disapproved shock that flies across Ignis' face before he can hide it, but she is too angry to really think of what it might mean. The high levels of stress and the lack of sleep are all catching up to her now, making her highly emotion and quick to take offense. Especially when she feels as if she is being humiliated by him in front of his friends in an attempt to keep face. Whatever that face may be.

She was not going to tolerate _that_.

"I'll take the Princess," Ignis offers.

"Me!" cries Prompto. "She can introduce me to her ladies in waiting... OUCH!"

"Get serious!" growls Gladiolus, with his hand ready to lay another smack to the back of Prompto's unruly head.

She gives Noctis a scathing look and then a smile at each of the other two, before focusing on Ignis.

"I would appreciate the company," she says to Ignis honestly. Then she turns to address Noctis. "And you, _Prince_ Noctis, are a superfluous spaz," she declares with a disgusted shake of her head. That, strangely, makes her feel better rather than regretful for the lack of manners. He had that insult coming and deserved more so for how he was acting. She turns to Ignis so that he can show her which way they were to go. It would not be conducive to achieving proper indignation were she to just start walking in the wrong direction afterall.

"That one should win it," comments Prompto in stunned approval. Not in the least offended for Noctis' sake. "Noct, I think I'm in love."

"Kissing herself would be rather problematic," replies Noctis sarcastically.

"At least we know we have a good judge," Ignis states wryly, leading her politely towards the right direction that they needed to go.

"It was nice to meet you both," she tells Prompto and Gladiolus, meaning it and not just saying it like she has so many times before in her life. "I wish you all could have come sooner. I would have appreciated your company."

She did not look at Noctis again, before following along beside Ignis. She still did not look back at Noctis when they walked further and further away. If she did, she thinks she just might walk back just to slap him after the way that he has treated her.

"Thank you," she says, once they are a good distance away, when the land was steadily becoming more familiar to her as they made their way. She is trying very hard not to think about Noctis and how easily he provoked her. "I am not very good at directions."

"You're welcome and I doubt you are," answers Ignis. "With a good map, I'm sure you'll be able to even sneak back into Nihilsomno."

"Your city is not exactly easy to sneak into."

"There's always a way," he replies and then looks at her intently. It does not look like he is really seeing her, but seeing something in his mind before he shakes his head to push whatever the thought had been, away. "Is there someone you can trust once we get you home?"

"Yes," she says. As much as she really dislikes the Prince at this moment, she will take his sound advice. "There is one man I can trust."

"Do I know him?"

"His name is Erebus."


	42. Avarus

Prompt: #3 Greed

Summary: Who was it really, that wanted more than they should?

A/N: The Undead Series

Avarus is Latin for, "Greedy".

_**Avarus**_

"Once you see me home safely, how will you get back to them?" she asks. They are further along now and are within sight of an outpost location. They have made steady progress and their silence has lacked the tension that had been present between her and Noctis. It was a lot easier knowing what was ahead of her for farther than two feet and on flat land instead of uneven terrain. It was also easier knowing that if she spoke, her partner would not make her feel foolish either.

"Don't worry about me, Stella," Ignis reassures her again. "I'm just worried about leaving you once we get where we're going."

"Why?" she asks flatly. He and the other two friends have shown more concern for her welfare than Noctis had.

Instead of answering her though, he gives her one of his trademark assessing stares. As if, to see whether she were being sincere in her query.

"It's in everyone's best interest if you return home safely," he says just as flatly, but she can tell that is not entirely what he means.

"You are better at diplomacy than your Prince," she comments with a rueful smile.

"Noct only lets you see what he wants you to see," is the dry reply.

"So I should be flattered."

"That depends on how you look at things," Ignis shrugs and through that small gesture, she can see a little of Noctis there too. Only those who spent an exorbitant amount of time together showed similarities like that. She sees them more in Ignis than she had in the other two. Which means that Ignis and Noctis were closer than Gladiolus and Prompto.

"How long have you and Noctis been friends?"

"We grew up together," answers Ignis. "I'm a tactician and have always been beside him."

_And always would,_ remains unsaid.

"So you have been trained to read him the best."

"In a sense, I guess you could say it like that," he agrees hesitantly, obviously never thinking about wording it that way. "But it's not fool proof. Noct surprises me all the time."

"I wish he would be consistent," she admits with a sigh. "He goes from caring to aggravating without any notice and most of the time I cannot keep up with him. I get frustrated and I just... I wish I knew more about him is all. That sounds so foolish considering we cannot stand each other. But I feel an almost greedy need to find out why. I just want to know why he acts the way he does towards me."

Ignis does not respond to that with words, not that she had expected him to either, but his searching look makes her wonder.

"What is it that you see?" she asks. "What can you tell me?"

"Noct has his reasons for the things that he does," he advises her. "You may not agree with those reasons, but he _does_ have them."

That did not sound very encouraging, but she can understand that his loyalties were with Noctis and not her. Even if he did know Noct's reasons for being so unstable around her, he would not say. It made him a great friend and loyal, which is what any future King needed. She can respect that and she respects Ignis even more for it. Noctis was fortunate, very fortunate to have him.

"I feel your conflict with Noct is leading to something very big," he adds in to her thoughts.

"Big in what way?" she asks, finding it curious that he would say it that way.

Any thoughts he might have told her are not allowed to be voiced because a large airship comes roaring towards them then.

"One of yours I am hoping," he states, looking at the approaching ship cautiously.

"Yes, that would be Erebus," she replies, recognizing the model of the vessel. The outlook post that they are in within sight of must have called in their appearance as soon as they had caught them in sight. It does seem rather curious that Erebus was the one to answer the call though. "He will be able to take you back to..."

"That won't be necessary, but thanks," answers Ignis politely, with a shake of his head. "It's not too far back to the forest and it's only a quick phone call to know where the guys are."

"That is still quite a walk," she insists.

"Can always do with some exercise," he responds with a shrug and a smirk.

The way he says this triggers something in her mind and it hits her belatedly.

Oh. How stupid of her.

Wherever he was to meet Noctis and the others, he was not going to risk anyone knowing where that was.

"If you are sure," she relents. "Thank you for coming with me."

"Anytime your Highness," he says, offering her his hand for a shake.

When she takes his it, she feels something secretly placed in hers, before he pulls away and gives her a brief bow in parting.

"_Any_ time," he repeats.

She does not look into her palm to see what it is, but keeps her eyes purposely trained on his retreating form and pockets the small object inside her jacket.

"Princess!" shouts a familiar voice. She can hear him run towards from behind and she feels relief that he is here. "Oh my Lady, are you all right?"

"As fine as can be, I suppose," she says sardonically, turning around to look at him.

The older man looks positively aghast at her appearance and quickly takes off his jacket to drape around her shoulders. "What an ordeal you must have been through to be in such a state."

She had, in all honesty, forgotten about how wild she must look. The mortification of how she must appear creeps into her cheeks hotly at the awareness. Erebus seems to read the dawning realization because he offers her a kind smile before throwing a protective arm around her in an attempt to shield her from as many eyes as possible. He starts barking orders harshly to scatter any who are lingering around her so that they scatter to obey rather than staring at her.

"We will just get you home and washed up and when you are ready, you can tell me what you are doing here instead of being catered to by those savages in Nihilsomno," he hisses in disdain. "How could they do this to a Princess of Tenebrae! They do not even wait until they are leaving her behind either!" He accuses with a glare at Ignis' departing back.

"He was actually very kind," she urges him to let Ignis leave in peace.

Savages was not quite the word she would use for Noctis and his people. Far from it. Especially when taking in her own present appearance. The animosity between her kingdom and Noctis' were ages long. Rivalry and nationalism made otherwise wise and educated men like Erebus, dislike them irrationally. Erebus had disapproved of her going on this trip in the first place, vehemently in fact and this would only add more fuel to a fire already existing between their two kingdoms. Right now though, she had not the heart nor the strength to get into another political debate with the older man. So, she follows his urgings and is taken back to her home with as much fuss as he likes.

It is hours later, after a long hot soak in the tub, a savory meal and then all she really wants to do is sleep. Sleep until she cannot possibly sleep anymore. Only, she can not sleep just yet. She expects Erebus to come and see her. When he finally knocks on the door, she has been able to make her mind more alert and more like herself.

"Are you much better now, my Lady?" he asks with a respectful bow of greeting.

"Yes, thank you," she answers with a smile. "I am happy to be home once again."

"Tell me how this has happened," he urges gently. He comes closer when she gestures towards a lounge across from her and sits.

A tea service arrives soon after and it is not long before he is handing her a cup, made just the way she likes it. She tells him about her journey while they take casual sips of their tea. He remained angry and offended at her treatment and she voiced her side of things as simply as possible. Of course, she leaves out certain parts of her journey. Those little moments between her and Noctis were not ones she wanted to share. She wanted to keep them for herself. It seemed prudent not to tell Erebus those details of her time with the Nihilsomno Prince. She did not want Erebus to know that, despite everything, she had become smitten with Noctis after all of this. She already knew such trifle feelings were useless and frivolous in the end. Yet, it was those rare glimpses she had seen of the real man that he was, that draws her. Which had always been covered over with that infuriating mask. The man deserved a good slap to orient himself, that was sure. An added incentive to make up his mind, she thinks.

"What did you think of the Prince?" Erebus asks, disturbing her thoughts. He had listened to her side of things silently and his question makes her fluster, making her wonder if she had somehow given away her feelings despite her best efforts.

"What about him?"

"Was he as greedy, selfish and arrogant as they claim he is?"

He _could_ be all those things when he chose to, but she is not sure that is who he really was.

"He must be greedy to allow such hording within his nation," Erebus adds in.

"It appears that way," she replies carefully, not agreeing but not disagreeing either and she feels guilty for the misleading wording.

Erebus accepts her answer with a sneer. "Of course he would be. It does not surprise me that he got you into such a mess."

"But _who_ could those people be? What do they want?"

"Ones who do not appreciate your gifts and wish to exploit it, no doubt," he grumbles. "Which means we must be careful, your Highness."

She nods in agreement. That was probably the only thing she truly agreed with him on.

"But leaving the castle would cause undue panic," he reasons. "We must stay here but keep up our vigilance."

"Yes, we must do that," she agrees, hiding a yawn behind her hand.

"I have kept you up too long," he apologizes, rising gracefully from the lounge. "You have been taxed and driven into the wilderness these last couple days, which is utterly appalling. It is amazing that you were not seriously injured. But, you should not have been injured at all! Or put into such a position in the first place!"

"I am fine, Erebus," she insists tiredly. "It was really a grand adventure and a good experience to be had."

"Always so pragmatic and positive," he comments with a affectionate smile. "Now, I shall have men posted outside to watch over you tonight. Rest well, your majesty."

"Good night, Erebus," she says with a grateful smile and watches him as he exits her rooms, leaving her alone with her thoughts once more.

With an exhausted sigh, she walks into her bedroom and sinks down onto the edge of her mattress. Carefully, she pulls out the little device that Ignis had given her earlier. Turning it over in the palm of her hand, she wonders why he would give her a homing beacon. It was not turned on so it was obviously by her own discretion to turn it on. Curious. Considering that Ignis did not even know her that well and yet, had been concerned enough to provide her with something like this. It expressed an incredible amount of trust as well. For she could easily use it to track _them_. So, what did it mean? Noctis had certainly not asked him to do it. He had not even wanted to see her back safely and had been eager to be rid of her. So then why would Ignis give her this? Did he suspect what she did? That Noctis _did_ care?

Shaking her head vigorously, she berates herself. It was only wishful thinking on her part. Which makes her greedy for any tidbit of imagined affection. When had she gotten so pathetic? She was all for positively thinking and looking on the brighter side of things, but logically she was stretching the reality a tad too much here. She _really_ needed to sleep. She was beginning to grasp at straws here. Yes, sleep would do her some good.


	43. Somnium

**Prompt**: #26 Dream

**Summary**: What do we see in dreams?

**A/N**: The Undead Series.

Somnium is Latin for, "fancy, day-dream".

_**Somnium**_

_Kill him. You _must _kill him._

She did. She _must_. There was no other way to end this. To kill him would be the end and all of this would be put to rights at last. The way it should have always been. He brought too much confusion. He incited too many warring emotions. He made her _feel _and she did not want to feel so much. Feelings were a weakness, just like the creator of them, and she could not be weak. So here she was. Back in Nihilsomno. Back here to where it had all begun. The homing beacon is grasped tightly in her hands, already activated. Now, she waits. She waits in the middle of what should be a busy intersection and waits.

He is coming. She knows that he is on his way. She can hear the sounds of a not too distant battle but knows that he will come without delay.

Though the sounds of battle continue, she can hear his steady approach. He will be here now and now, she can do what she must. She must kill him. Turning her head, she sees him slide into view. He looks at her warily. The confusion is evident too at the sight of her. It would when he had so readily thrown her aside. Her appearance here is a surprise that he had not factored, which she will use her to advantage. She can see his hesitation as he makes cautious steps closer towards her. Something churns inside her at the sight of him. Gone was the smug pompous cad that she had seen so much of and in his place, is what she had only been able to catch glimpses of. That, was the real man and her feet rush forward to _that _man. Only to stop when she realizes that the mask is always there. The mask _has_ to be back in place. No, not the mask. It is her own perception of him that shifts. He looks at her the same, only she does not like this man either. She despises this one as much as the fake one that he hides behind.

Her rune flashes gold at the same moment that his does and both their weapons are unsheathed.

"Stella, what...?"

"You must die," she states simply. "That is the only way."

"The only way for what?" he asks. He sounds baffled and torn and completely the opposite of the indifferent fiend that he had wanted her to think he was. A very distant and weak part of her twinges at it.

"To rid the world of chaos," she replies. "Now, you must die."

"Stella... what the...?"

She gives him no time to finish asking his question before she attacks. In a flash of gold, she makes her first strike, but he blocks her. Their blades spark as they rub against the other hotly and uses the closeness to gaze into her eyes. He forces her backward yet she is not to be deterred. She leaps back only to fly forward at him again with another assault, intent on taking his head. Their fight begins and in the far recesses of her mind, she admires her him anew. His movements are so graceful. His body flowing so fluidly. She has never seen anyone fight quiet like he did and nobody with quiet so much agility.

"Stella stop this!" he yells, knocking her blade aside yet again.

"Stella?" she taunts. "Not, _Princess_?"

His face looks anguished then. A mark of angry frustration and it is the most truthful she has ever seen him.

Why did it seem like he did not want to hurt her when he only seemed to care for her superficially.

"If you do not stop this, I will be forced to hurt you," he warns, taking on a slightly more aggressive tactic in order to drive her back. All the while he watches her face intently.

"You must be taken away," she admonishes, successfully blocking his blows.

Suddenly, his blue eyes narrow and bleed into red. He is on her now, acting the aggressor. With a clever twist of his blade, he slices her right arm and whacks away her rapier from her grip. It lands on the pavement with a loud clang that echoes along the lonely street before it dissolves away. The sound is soon replaced with both of their heavy breathing as they glare at each other. She clutches the shallow wound on her bicep and he keeps the point of his broad sword pointed at her.

"I am not going to let you hurt yourself," he growls heatedly.

She summons her rapier again and swings her sword to strike him again, only to be met with the whirlwind of his arsenal. It twirls around him like a tornado, effectively blocking any blows that she may try to inflict. She tries several times, only to be knocked aside by the force of them again and again.

A screech of anger echoes in her mind, forcing her back a moment and from the shocked look on Noctis' face, she knows he has heard it too.

Her rapier falls from suddenly nerveless fingers as a strange numbness spreads across her body. Without meaning to do so, she steps forward, towards the rapidly spinning swords. Then she takes another step forward. She can feel the wind of the sharp blades as they fly protectively around him. Less than an inch and she will collide with them. A collision of flesh against sharp metal.

"Stella...," Noctis warns, unable to believe her intent. "What are you _doing_?"

_Do it!_

"No!" he shouts, when she takes that final step that would put her in the path of his blades. "Stella no!"

A burst of blue light engulfs her and an immense heat consumes her. It shoots her straight off her feet and far back away…

Violet eyes fly open on a loud gasp and her body rises instantly into a sitting position on her bed. Pulse racing and heart pounding, her vision blurred through clouds of sleep as she tries to grasp what she has just seen.

"What was that?" she asks aloud, gulping loudly for gasps of air. Her eyes run around the familiar walls and décor of her bedroom in disbelief.

All is the same. All is as it was when she had fallen asleep. Only that it was early morning and a bustling sound in her ears. She shakes her head in an attempt to rid herself of the last vestiges of sleep, then the sound become more clear. It was too early for such excited comings and goings. Right then, one of her handmaidens bursts into her rooms and scurries over to her side of the bed.

"My Lady," her maiden addresses in a rush, out of breathe and more than a little scared.

"What is it, June?" she asks, still feeling the fuzzy effects of deep slumber and the strange noises still coming from the outside.

"They say a gang of hoodlums from Nihilsomno has breached the city walls and they are making their way to the palace!" cries June, ending in a squeak of fright.

"Gang? What?" she asks in confused alarm, making ready to throw the sheet away from her body.

Only to let out a surprised cry of pain the motion causes.

June gasps. "Your Majesty, what happened to your arm?"

Lifting the injured appendage, she takes in the slash against her pale skin and the blood leaking from it. The shocking sight of it causes a chill to run through her veins and a sense of extreme unease.

"I, I thought I was dreaming it all," she whispers, more to herself than to June. "That _was _a dream."

"Your Highness, what are you saying?"

"Oh no...," she says breathlessly, horrified to realize that none of the visions in her head were a figment of her imagination. "Noctis."

As if answering her call, he is there. Just there, within her rooms in a blue shattering of Crystals. He looks at her sitting haphazardly on her mattress and then to the wound on her arm.

"You and I need to have a chat, _Princess,_" he states.

Ignoring June's cry of fright, he walks briskly to her side and gathers her into his arms. Then, they are gone in another flash of blue.


	44. Ignosco

**Prompt: **#11 Forgive

**Summary: **Should she beg for forgiveness or accept her fate?

**A/N: **The Undead Series

Ignosco is Latin for, "overlook, forgive, pardon".

_**Ignosco**_

"Lord Noctis."

"I think we are past all of that, would you not agree?" he asks, before she can utter anything else. He is carrying her bridal style through a thick brush of trees. Back to the familiar surroundings of the forest together, alone and she has been obediently keeping her arms around his neck to help balance her weight. Her undressed wound was positively throbbing now, but she dared not complain about it. "I also did tell you during the beginning of our acquaintance to call me, Noct."

That he had. He had also made a flippant comment about her hair as well, if she recalled correctly. Not that, that was all that important compared to what she had done last night. Right now she had nothing to say for herself. She cannot tell from his tone whether he is incensed at her or not. It is stern. There is nothing mysterious about _that_ part. His grip on her body is binding but not painful and he shows no sign that he will let her walk on her own two feet. The only thing keeping her from mentioning that her legs were uninjured was the carefully blank look on his face. The kind of blank look that could easily change were he not so consciously trying to keep it so neutral. Not that she has any right to speak anyway. What she had thought was a strange and vivid dream had obviously not been. Which meant that she really _had_ challenged him to a duel, intent on taking his life.

It still felt like it had only been and like all dreams, upon waking they do not make much sense when they seemed so logical while you dream them. It is that part that baffles her so. Many details had not made any sense. They still did not. The plot. The anger. The dialogue. There was also too, the fact that she did not quite remember everything about it either. Much of it is still hazy. The more she tried to remember, the more the memory eluded her. What she _can_ remember are words that she had said, which did not seem to be her own.

Most prevalent is that she is shame. No matter her excuses and dodgy memory, she had attacked Noctis. As much of a spaz she thought he was, it was uncharacteristically stupid of her to sneak into _his_ city and make such threats to his person. There were repercussions to such actions, no matter that she had not been herself. The Princess of Tenebrae had sought to kill the Prince of Nihilsomno. It was a major headline in the making.

"Noctis?" she asks tentatively, too ashamed to even meet his eye. She manages to only get as far up as his nose.

"Not now, _Princess_," he answers tersely. He is still walking at a brisk pace and occasionally teleporting to hurry their journey along. "I am not having the long conversation that we need to have while you are bleeding all over me."

It takes more than a little self control not to immediately snap at him to put her _down_ if he did not like that. She opts to bite her lip instead.

"Not too far now," he comments and his grip tightens around her a moment while he continues on without pause.

"Secret lair?" she asks, half teasing and half serious. She does have a lot of explaining to do.

"The guys are waiting," he says.

Ah, so the four of them are going to interrogate her together. What a mess! Without consciously meaning to, she has broken their trust. She is sure they are livid and cannot wait to lay into her about all of this. No matter that she had not been aware that it was all real. It _had_ been real. This saddens her. This saddens her deeply. Within such a short period of time she has grown fond of them. Now, they must despise her.

"Why have you not tied me up?" she asks cautiously. It was more than what she deserved, seeing as she was now his captive. Keeping her properly bound would, no doubt, make it easier to contain her. Not that she would fight anyhow. Shackling her would just be more to their advantage.

"Why would I tie you up?" he asks, looking curiously back at her. "Did you want me to tear your wound more?"

Put like that, no. She also wants to ask him why he feels he needs to _carry _her.

"There they are!" she hears Prompto shout and she finds herself wanting to hide her face in Noctis' neck. Only, she knows he might not take too kindly to that and would most likely drop her. Which, all things considered, might be a little better than looking at the disappointment and anger that is surely on Prompto's face. On all of their faces.

She keeps her eyes downcast as three sets of foot steps rush towards them.

"Are you all right, Stella?" Ignis asks. He asks with such genuine concern that her eyes fly up to him in surprise.

"Igs, that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard you ask," accuses Prompto with a shake of his head. "Of _course_ she's not all right. She's got a two inch gash on her arm!"

"I was not referring to that," Ignis replies with a scoff.

"We need to dress the wound," Noctis orders, when it looks like Prompto wants to make another comment to Ignis. Noctis, still holding her in his arms, walks towards a small cave and settles her gently onto a flat rock to shield her from the increasingly hot rays of the mid morning sun.

"Damn Noct," mutters Gladiolus, crouching down to look over her arm. "You weren't kidding. Not exactly two inches and she doesn't need stitches."

"I tried to be careful," Noctis replies with his eyes on it too. He looks upset, from the glare that he is currently shooting towards it.

Swiftly, Gladiolus proceeds about opening a first aid kit and starts pulling out various ointments and bandages.

"Why are you all not angry?" she cannot help asking with a confused frown.

"Oh, we're pissed off all right," assures Prompto. "But first things first."

"Then why bother to patch me up?"

The question has all four of them pausing from watching Gladiolus dress her wound and look at her face like they have never seen her before. Noctis' surprise is not as long and neither is Ignis'.

"You…," starts Ignis.

"Uh, why wouldn't we patch you up, Stell?" blurts out Prompto bluntly.

"She thinks Noct kidnapped her because he was… upset about last night."

"But he is."

Gladiolus scoffs loudly but continues wrapping her cut with gauze.

"Yeah, but Stella thinks he is mad at _her_."

"Why would…?" Prompto starts to ask until he notices the apprehension on her face.

"Why would I not?"

"Noct, dude, you didn't tell her as you were coming over here?" Prompto gaps at Noctis.

Which Noctis responds to with a shrug. "It was the most obedient and meek she has ever been." He raises an eyebrow at her. "I was not about to spoil it."

Of all the…

Her eyes narrow at him and his taunting look almost, _almost_ provokes her enough to give him a very well deserved tongue lashing. Instead, she summons her guilt again and manages to not let him rile her up. From the look on his face, he had wanted her to. So she would obviously _not_ oblige him in that. She goes back to what is more important instead.

"Why are none of you mad at me?"

"Nothing to be upset about," answers Gladiolus, adding the twines that would keep the gauze from unraveling.

"We know it wasn't really you," adds Prompto helpfully.

Her brows knit together at that. "How?"

"You were saying things that someone else would say," answers Noctis. "I also know that you are too _nice_ to ever want to actually kill me."

How he manages to make that sound like an insult is astonishing.

"So the question is how they got you to do that," explains Ignis.

"You are saying that someone was controlling my body last night?"

How was that even possible?

"Of course, Stell," grins Prompto encouragingly. "Why else do you think we broke into your city to get you? You're not safe there."

"I thought Noctis was seeking revenge," she explains quietly.

"Revenge for what?" asks Noctis. "You did not _do_ anything."

Astonishing. She is absolutely astonished by him, by _all_ of them. How easily they all forgave and dismissed her actions. At a time when tensions and prejudices were deep between their two nations and maters could not be any more volatile, these four could so easily over look what was obviously a botched assassination attempt. If she did not know already, she was sure now. These men were special. They were precious and they needed to be the ones to rule. Their countries would be much better off that way. This all, of course, means that Noctis, as much of a cad as he could be, was very wise. Despite first impressions and overall indications to the contrary, he was _noble_.

"Mind control?" she asks, trying to make sense of things.

"Did your mind _want_ to kill me?"

"I do not want to kill you at all," she admits. She is too fascinated and enamored, foolish as that was, with him to even think of doing away with him. "I thought it was a dream. It was very much _like_ a dream. Where, even thoughts that were not even my own, seemed like they were mine."

"You didn't fight it either then. Those strange impulses," states Ignis contemplatively.

"So I'm gonna assume the nonsense part was killing Noct," offers Prompto, which she answers with a nod.

"So you had fallen asleep and you woke up in bed," states Noctis, musing over that little detail.

"Yes," she answers.

"Did you eat or drink anything right before?"

"Tea," she answers. "But it did not make me feel strange or sleepy."

"Inside job," replies Prompto with a nod. "We were right to nab you."

"I do not believe it was entirely the tea," states Noctis.

"What makes you say that?" asks Gladiolus.

"She was wearing a necklace last night," Noctis answers, looking down at her neck. She was not wearing a necklace now and had not put one on since the gala dinner in Nihilsomno before this whole thing started. "Though I am sure the tea helped her to be more susceptible to the delirium, which made everything dream like to her."

"Whatever he did, it was a combination of things put together that made her do the things she did last night."

"Stella, there is something else that we need to tell you," Ignis says, looking very grim. "This is going to sound impossible but we now know the identity of The Wise One."

A sickening dread spreads through her because she already knows who he is speaking of.

_Erebus._


	45. Corrigo

**Prompt: **#33 Right

**Summary: **To right a wrong.

**A/N: **The Distortion Series

Corrigo is Latin for, "to make correct, make right".

_**Corrigo**_

It's really... incredible. Well, maybe that isn't really the word he wants. He's never been that great with them anyway. That was more Noct's forte. He was the eloquent one of the group, even though Pro was The Mouth. But, right now, it's just incredible. That's all that he can come up with. She's here. It's impossible that she should even be alive, let alone _here_. As much as he has wondered over the years, he'd never actually thought he would see her again. He wonders whether Noct had felt the same way when he'd seen Stella return to Nihilsomno a couple nights ago. That is assuming, of course, that Noct is actually _aware_ of anything right now. Still, Noct should have known Stella would eventually return. So if he's cognizant, he'd have expected Stella to come eventually. Knight, on the other hand... not even _he_ had thought she'd ever come back. Not even a glimmer of hope for that. Last he'd seen her, she had flown away. No promises. No nothing. The only thing he had to tell him that she had cared was that she hadn't cut his balls off for kissing her.

Now, she was back, having just helped Stella escape Noct as Erebus. His mind is _still_ reeling about _that_ part too. Two Nocts. Seems like a scifi movie. Both on the wrong side. He didn't get it. It didn't make sense and his emotions have been all over the place ever since it was hinted at. Once the idea was put out there though, he can see it. But that still didn't mean that it made a lick of sense. Now this. Now another revelation that is enough to knock him off his feet. Knight was back in his life. When Stella had said she was with her earlier, his heart had stopped. Flat lined and maybe even a little loss of consciousness too. Talk about _surprised_. As often as he has thought of her, he hadn't allowed himself to believe that she had made it out safely all those years ago. What he had feared was that she would return an even more devoted servant to The Wise One if she did. She has one upped him this time by showing up like this and just like before, she was the wild card who's intentions were a mystery. He's beginning to realize that was probably why he was so attracted to her. He couldn't accurately predict her.

Selene looks different. Back then she had the look of someone out to prove herself. Someone unsure and deep down, really just afraid. Seeing that had brought out that protective side of him that was always triggered by a woman in need. Feminism aside. It was there whether women appreciated it or not. But she turned out to be so much more than that. She had challenged and fought and made everything difficult and in the end of course, he'd fallen for her. Fallen for that vulnerable, yet strong, remarkable female warrior that gave him a run for his money. In the end, they'd both felt too much more than they should have. He knows he did. All the while Ignis' warning about her affecting him made sense. Maybe that meant she would be the death of him. He can see that happening. Seeing how she has changed, he knows it as a certainty now and from the looks his friend was giving him, Ignis is worried. Even though he wasn't really worried about the dying part. He'd been ready his whole life for that. What he _is _worried about, is that he'll hesitate if she poses a danger to Noct (either one) or the others.

She hasn't looked at him once since she and Stella had come and he's not gonna be some bashful pansy and avoid looking at her either. So he's going to _keep _looking at her until he sees an opening to talk to her. Not that he's got a lot to say, but she is alive. She's stayed alive all this time and that's all he'd ever asked of her. What he wants to know is _how_ she's stayed alive all these years and there was no way he wasn't gonna ask. Just not in front of everyone. Ignis, the genius that he is, already seems to sense his agitation and eagerness to talk to her alone cause he herds Stella into a room to get some decent clothes on (he's also studiously avoiding looking at _that _too by keeping his eyes on Knight). Then Ignis grabs Pro by the cuff to make themselves scarce, leaving him alone with Knight.

When the door closes behind everyone else, he turns his head to find her already looking at him dead on and ready. Ready in a way she had never been ready before. It makes him feel suddenly unsure.

"What are you doing here, Knight?" he ends up growling.

"You're not going to ask me how?" she counters and he can feel the game is on again between them.

"I want to know if its for the purpose of killing us," he demands directly. They didn't have time for half assed answers and questions.

"When I was here last, I was wrong about a lot of things," she explains, still looking him right in the eye. "It took me a few years to realize how much."

"How did you survive?" he asks, giving in to the curiosity. She can't blame him for demanding to know the other thing first.

"You were right about the Wise One," she says with a nod. "He did try to have me killed and he almost succeeded." He must have growled at that because she stretches out her arms as if to show him she's all right. "Obviously, I managed to get away, though just barely. After that, I was only just behind you. Only just missing every step that you took. When you all finally succeeded in killing The Wise One and all those that had followed him, I was making ready to return here then."

"But Noct changed before you could."

"Yes," she replies. "All I could do was wait on the Princess because I knew that when the time was right, she would find a way to get in."

"Why didn't you approach Stella before?"

"It seemed more prudent to stay in the shadows until we got here," she answers. "The likelihood of capture was too high, so I settled on following behind her."

Smart woman.

"Why didn't you just get on with your life then? You're free."

She gives him a shrew look. As if he's supposed to know why and right now, he's not gonna just assume anything until she tells him straight out.

"I thought I made it clear that I'm not a runner," she reminds him.

"This isn't your fight."

"But it's _yours_," she states. "And I told you, I was wrong. Now I want to be right."

He must have a scowl on his face, because she offers him a sly smile.

Knight has definitely changed and he can tell she was going go give him an ever bigger run for his money. There was a self assuredness that hadn't been there before. She was no longer confused or torn. She is her own woman and he wants this woman she is now more than he'd wanted the woman that she was.

"So The Wise One really _is_ dead."

She nods. "I saw his corpse myself," she says and from the look on her then, he believers her. "And I hear that your Prince Noctis has taken on his name."

"Makes things even more interesting," he states flatly. Noct using _that _name when he _hated_ Erebus. They all did, but Noct the most because of what he did and what he had planned to do to all of them. He angles his head to look at Selene. "There's something you're not telling me."

"Stella said that both the Imposter and Erebus share the same exact DNA."

He nods for her to continue.

"Yet the Imposter does not seem to know anything of which Prince Noctis would."

"We figured it was the virus that he was exposed to."

"Partly," she amends for him. "The virus was made to effect a person's mind yes. In order to make them more susceptible to suggestion."

"The Imposter has the virus too. So are you saying that they are _both _being controlled?"

"Someone is pulling the strings. I'm just not sure who."

"Do you know what the real plan is?"

"The games are not merely for entertainment," she comments shrewdly.

"We figured," he says, impressed at her quick observation.

She watches him closely for a moment, as if assessing how he was going to react to what she wants to say next.

"I know you must have realized that the people of Nihilsomno are a bit robotic of late."

"Seems like very large scale mind control," he says vaguely. It was something the three of them had talked about and had all been reluctant to tell Stella. They figured if she hadn't noticed yet, then they weren't going to overwhelm her. Especially when she had revealed so much that he was _still_ chewing over... like pieces of glass.

"Have you not wondered why the three of you are not susceptible to it?" she asks softly.

"I've a feeling you do," he replies.

"It's just a theory of mine," she offers. "But it is most likely because the Prince somehow spared the three of you."

That, was a loaded theory and one that made him angry. Angry because they'd considered Helmet Head the enemy for so long and now to find out that it was Noct _and _to hear that he may have been protecting them all this time. They should have _seen _it.

"Do you know how they're doing it? Whoever _they _are."

"When Princess Stella was controlled that time she attacked Prince Noctis, she was exposed to an earlier test version of the virus in her tea. That combined with the necklace, she was guided temporarily."

"She said it was like a dream."

Selene nods. "It was only with the help of those experiments conducted on the prince when he had been in captivity, that they were able to perfect it. Of course, by that time, it was not much longer until The Wise One was killed. But between the Prince's escape and the Wise One's death, it was _lost_. So they say," she says with a roll of her eyes incredulously. "Obviously not so lost. Merely stolen. Stolen and currently being used by... that mystery person again. But I believe there is an antidote for the virus. Much like the one the Undead had to use to heal from crystal poisoned wounds."

Without consciously meaning to, he's taken small steps closer and now he's standing right in front of her. He can tell that as confident that she has become, there was a small part of her that would remain skittish around him. Which is proven true when she seems surprised to see him so close now but the fighter in her refuses to step away and put distance between them.

"So you're gonna fight this with us now?" he asks. His voice dropping in order not to spook her away. Not again. He can't let her walk away from him again.

Her eyes lower to his lips and it makes him think back to their kiss, like she must be.

"Are you going to make it worth my while?" she challenges with an arched eyebrow.

A wide grin spreads slowly across his face and his scarred eye twinkles in amusement.

Yeah, she has become even more than he'd ever wanted. What kinda putz would he be if he didn't meet _that_ challenge?

So he lowers his face so that his lips are hovering just above hers.

"I think you already know I will," he replies, making sure that his breath tickles across her lips, but he doesn't take them. If she wants a challenge, she's gonna have to be the one to cross that line.

"Big promises," she comments and lifts her chin up just a little bit to meet him, but not quite.

"I'm game if you are, Knight."

Her eyes flash to his and being so close, he can see how much that excites her. She smirks at him before reaching up to grab his neck and press her lips to his to seal the deal.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: Just so everyone is on the same page and this is going to sound _really_ confusing, but here we go. _The_ _Lost Series_ officially led into _The Undead Series_ in **Pridem**. _The Undead Series_ and _Dragon Knight Series_ share the same time period, though the Dragon Knight Series is more of a brief segment within it. _The Undead Series_ officially morphed into the _Distortion Series_ with **Frustro**. Depending on how long you've been reading, you already know that the origins of the Lost and Undead series' are in the _**Lacesco Series **_(details mentioned in this prompt are from those). **Carmen **is the official start of _The Distortion Series_.

Yes, I was confused too. Please let me know in the reviews if, at the end of Sentio, you would like me to repost everything in sequence. If there isn't much of a response, I'm going to keep them as is. Five more to go! ^_^


	46. Comprehendo

**Prompt: **#32 Hold

**Summary:** Who is really who?

**A/N: **The Distortion Series

Comprehendo is Latin for, "to embrace, take firmly".

_**Comprehendo**_

"I think we've given them enough time to catch up now."

"Pro," warns Ignis. "No."

"But..."

"No."

"You are _so _no fun man! You know that?" accuses Prompto, but he _does _listen and settles back onto the stool that he had been perched upon previously.

Ignis continues tinkering with various vials and beakers wordlessly while she tries to make sense of all that she has just heard .

"I should have some more results in a bit," Ignis states, without looking up to make sure that Prompto has listened to him or not.

For herself, she is glad to have Selene back with them once again. True, they were all a little wary of where her allegiances lay, but deep down, all of this felt as if it was all supposed to be this way. There is a certain satisfaction to be had in that she is doing what she should be doing. The Dragon Knight's appearance into their lives, disappearance and subsequent reappearance had a meaning. It was often times frowned upon to believe in such things as fate or destiny, but it is difficult to refute their existence and powers when she felt she was where she was meant to be right now. Everything that had come and all is yet to come, was meant for a purpose. A purpose that would be shown in the unknown finale that was soon to come.

Would her life end in an epic tragedy? Or would she have future as bright as any fairy tale? She cannot so easily believe in the possibility of the happy ending. Not when she had believed she would before and had, had it snatched away from her over night. Only to have spent the last five years in utter misery with the uncertainty of not knowing what had become of the man she loves. She _still_ does not know what really happened to him. Still, as bleak as her life has been, she refuses to become the cynic. She would rather be the optimist but she settles for being the realist. All she can do now is to keep taking those steady steps forward. One step at a time and then she would eventually meet the end of her journey.

It relieves her to hear that Gladiolus had turned off his comm when, as Prompto stated, "When things were getting interesting". They had heard what they had needed to hear and the two of them need to have a moment of complete privacy. She regrets that they had, had to eavesdrop at all, but it seemed prudent to get the answers first hand. Gladiolus must have agreed with that because he had allowed them to hear the conversation in the first place. Now, she has so much to think over. Much of which, she hates to remember, even now.

With all too much clarity, she can recall how embarrassed and ashamed she had been after her own experience at being controlled. It was a time she hated to look back on and now, it seems it is essential that she remember all that she could of the actual event in order to help Noctis. Not a pleasant endeavor overall because the recollection brought her such profound shame. She did not have a choice however. Any detail that she can recall might be that little nugget that would bring her Noctis back to her.

"I know that we should give them a moment, but we ain't got many of them to give the lovers now," Prompto states, not unreasonably.

No sooner had those words escaped his mouth than an alarm blares to life.

"What does that mean?" she asks. "Besides the obvious." The obvious being that they had an intruder.

"Oh frak," states Prompto, trading a look with Ignis just as Gladiolus bursts through the door with Selene close behind.

"That was an inner parameter breach alarm," states Ignis to her in answer.

"That sly son of a..."

"He wanted you to know he was coming but only give you enough time to _know_ it, before he made his gloating entrance," observes Selene. From the look of approval on the other woman's face, she looks more impressed than fearful of their new visitor. "That's deviously brilliant."

"Do we know which one it is?" she asks. Her heart is racing now with the impatience that was being shown in finding them now. The relentlessness in which they were being hunted meant something very big was coming very soon and they all were a threat to whatever that is. She was not sure whether to be worried or hopeful at this knowledge.

"It's the Imposter," states Ignis, already uploading his data onto a mini USB drive and handing it to her. He gives her a sheepish, uncomfortable look when she looks at him questioningly. "You have more convenient places to hide it."

She nods her understanding with a small smile of amusement despite the circumstances and quickly places it in the underside of one of the cups of her bra. She is still adjusting herself when the door explodes off its hinges and the small lab is filled with debris. The dust not yet settled when a clear and crisp voice sounds out through the haze.

"Effective protection, Ignis. Effective, but not enough," comments the voice before a familiar figure's silhouette materializes before them. The dust settles to reveal the gloating face of the Imposter. Even knowing so, she is still temporarily taken aback by just how much he looks like Noctis. His sharp eyes quickly assess them all before settling onto Selene. "More to your party? My how you are growing." He sneers before his eyes turn to lock onto her own. "It was very rude of you to leave when things were going so well between us."

"You came all the way over here for a reason and it wasn't just to gloat about being able to find us," comments Ignis, drawing the Imposter's gaze away from her.

The Imposter's eyes look at Ignis and a look of knowing passes between them. It is so reminiscent to the way Ignis and Noctis would look at each other sometimes. Without speaking, they would be able to know what the other was thinking. This, is yet another mark that the Imposter was more like Noctis than any imposter would normally be.

"Banishment worked so well," the Imposter states just as flatly as Ignis had. "Let us see if just throwing you into a cell would work better."

"What about the sands?" suggests Ignis, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

The Imposter chuckles. "There are so many theories! Crazy imaginations." He looks between her and Ignis. "Was it _you_ who has been feeding the Princess of Tenebrae such outrageous accusations?" Then he focuses on her once more. "Maybe not perhaps. She has a look of someone who has their own mind and not easily dissuaded."

"Why bother now?" demands Prompto. "You're such a smarty pants, why haven't you come before?"

The raised eyebrow and overall expression that flitters across the Imposter's face, again, looks so much like Noctis' that her heart aches to look at it.

"And what fun would that be to do that?" he demands right back.

"He's impressive," comments Selene.

"I like to think so," the Imposter comments, giving her a wry grin before glancing at Ignis. "That makes _two_ intruders that you are harboring here."

"So punish us by going to the sands," growls Gladiolus.

"No, I do not believe that will do," responds the Imposter with a wicked glean in his eyes. Those eyes which turn to stare deeply into her own again.

She cannot describe the sensation that washes over her when his eyes lock onto her own this time. Those red eyes peer at her from under midnight bangs with a predatory expression. Something tickles within her awareness and the voice returns.

_Slanderous insect! Nothing you do will do _any _good. _

_There is nothing to stop what is to come._

Staring into those red eyes and hearing that whispery voice of venomous words is somehow intoxicating and all together mesmerizing. Hypnotic in the way that it all combined together and she finds herself trying to get closer to him.

Until, a rumbling sound slashes through her awareness and her only thoughts are those of _who_ it is that always seems to make that noise. She jerks away from those deceptively familiar red irises and turns to see the black shininess of Erebus' helmet just behind the shoulder of the Imposter. It takes an earnest effort to keep her face neutral when he appears so as not to give her thoughts away. Hs stare upon her is so heavy that she can feel the weight of it from behind the protective plastic.

"Of course you _had_ to bring Helmet Head," mutters Prompto before he blows a raspberry to be dramatic.

"He is more efficient than _you_ ever were," remarks the Imposter snidely. "I am glad you have finally decided to join us, Erebus." Then those eyes fix on her once again. "Naughty princess," he says with a tsking sound. "They have been behaving all this time and you have taken them on a merry fool's errand. So, you have only yourself to blame for the punishment they will meet now."

He looks at her thoughtfully for a moment, ignoring the remark Prompto makes regarding their punishment and how he can "shove it where the sun don't shine". That is all the warning she gets before a flash of reddish, orange light emblazons the room, forcing the others away from her and encasing her within a gossamer bubble of bright red. She can still _see_ the others and yet feels so completely alone with the Imposter in his protective sheen. Everyone else seems so far away while she was inside here. She cannot even hear them either and barely makes them out on the other side.

"Why do you look at me like that?"

"How do you mean?" she asks in surprise.

"You have looked at me that way since the moment I saw you in the arena."

"How do I look at you?" she asks hesitantly.

He comes closer and closer and even though every thing in her wants to shrink back, she knows he expects it of her. To do so would somehow break the sensitive moment. So she remains still at his approach to wait and see what he does.

"Like you are torn between hate and compassion and heartbreak," he explains, coming ever closer until he is right in front of her. "It is the heartbreak that so fascinates me." His face is hovering just above hers now. "It makes me feel smug and angry."

"Why should it affect you at all?" she asks curiously. She had many reasons why she inadvertently looked at him the way she did. Yet he, had no emotional attachment to her at all. So, he should not feel anything so severe as anger.

"That, is what I do not understand," he answers honestly. His remarkably open confession puzzles him too, from the unguarded expression on his face once the words are out of his mouth. "Smug is a given, of course. It is the anger." He gives her a searching look. "As if I could kill whoever it was that put the heartbreak in your eyes."

Her eyes follow his rising hand as it grasps a few strands of her blond hair and he studies them intently.

"You were a brunette before, which is why I did not immediately recognize you," he says, still looking at the hair that he holds so unexpectedly gently. "I was not expecting you to come as you did."

"But you _were_ expecting me?"

"Yes," he replies. "Seeing you fight made something I have always kept with me, make sense at last." He pulls gently on the hair that he still holds to bring her face closer to his own. So close that their foreheads are almost touching and she can feel his breath on her face. "I saw how hurt you were when I was so brisk with you. Like you knew me. Which means_ I_ must know you and is why I have this with me all the time."

His lips are dangerously close to hers and his words, along with the sincerity of his tone almost make her give in to his seduction.

"What is that you have?" she asks, leaning away but not stepping away completely.

Without taking his eyes from hers, he reaches inside the high collar of his leather jacket to pull out a small vial attached to a chain and holds it out just enough for her to see what it is.

Her gasp takes her back a step shakily in shock and her violet eyes meet his ruby ones in open surprise.

"These are yours," he states. "They _must_ be."

"How did you get those?" she asks, staring at the vial that contains a small amount of her Crystal remnants. Their golden flecks gleaming inside the small glass.

"I have often wondered why I would keep such a frivolous thing, but I can never seem to part with it," he states softly, dropping it back to where it goes unseen by anyone else. "Seeing you now… you _know_ why, don't you, Stella?"

He has leaned in closer again and she feels like she is lost in the emotions she can see in his gaze.

"Will you know me?" he implores in a whisper. His lips are just about to touch hers.

A protest is on her lips. She is about to push him away when a large explosion rocks the ground beneath them, causing the protective shell around them to vanish and separate them from each other instead. She finds herself standing in the lab that no longer looks like one, but instead looked…

"Holy Frakkin' Etro! That was a whopper!" cries Prompto, flapping at his hair to get the dust out as he moves. "Come on, Stell!" Then he dashes towards the door while she is quickly grabbed by Ignis to follow along behind.

She barely has enough time to notice Erebus and the dark aura that surrounds him on the other end of the room, before she is pulled into a run out of the lab and further in to the maze of the hideout.

"What happened?" she cries to Ignis' back trying to keep pace.

"Etro if I know," replies Ignis over his shoulder.

"What was _that_, Stell?" asks Prompto, obviously referring to the moment between her and the Imposter.

"Etro if I know," she answers, borrowing from Ignis.

She really did not know. She can not even put into words what had just happened between them. Dare she still think of him as an Imposter after this?

"He has my Crystal dust around his neck."

"He what?" barks Gladiolus, who is running a little further up ahead with Selene.

"He says he does not know how or why he keeps it."

"Are you thinking maybe _he_ is really Noct?"

"Pretty soon I'm gonna just go eeny meeny miney moe," shouts Prompto as they continue running.

The walls around them, which were already dilapidated, are collapsing at an alarming rate and she has no idea where they are at the moment. Her only assurance is that the men knew where _they_ were going.

"Did you have a trigger switch that would blow the building in case of this kind of scenario?" she asks Ignis.

"Yeah, but I didn't trigger it," he replies, allowing her through a concealed door and shutting it swiftly behind them.

"How long before the building completely collapses?"

"I'd say any minute now," is the grim reply, though he does not seem all that concerned about it.

Prompto looks downright ecstatic for the excitement, if the grin on his face is any indication. She is not sure whether to be alarmed when she sees similar expressions of eagerness on Gladiolus and Selene's faces as well.

"How are we getting out?"

"I hardly think they came alone," she comments.

"You mean they probably have an army of zombies out there?" asks Prompto.

"Not quite Undead," retorts Stella.

"No pun intended," mutters Gladiolus with a grin.

"Which is why we're not going out but heading down to the passages below," says Ignis. "We also have to split up."

"I suppose now is as good a time as any to find out Noct's secret lair down in the depths of the darkness," says Prompto.

"I'm all for that," agrees Gladiolus.

"Ignis, I need you to find out what and where the machine is that must be controlling the people," she says urgently, reaching into her bra and tossing the USB drive into his hand. "There must be a base station somewhere and you can check your data there."

"Which means it's _my _turn with Stell!" shouts Prompto with a pump of his fist.

They are all running so fast and though she knows she can, she cannot seem to quicken her step to keep pace with all of them as they reach a more open area of the rapidly crumbling building. Then she hears it, that unmistakable rumbling sound that makes her heart race. Her steps falter and she trips, causing the unsteady ground beneath her to collapse. She has a moment to shout a cry of surprise and hear the various shouts of alarm from the guys before she falls through the floor and into an abyss of darkness. Only, she is not alone for long as she makes this innards churning fall. Strong arms hold on to her tightly as a shiny helmet appears in her vision and the whole world turns back.

* * *

><p>I hope that was worth the wait. :)<p> 


	47. Phantasy

**Prompt: **#24 Fantasy

**Summary: **When things shifted.

**A/N: **You'll have to guess which verse this is. ~_^

Phantasy is Greek for, "to make visible".

_**Phantasy**_

"Where is she?"

"I am here, if you must know," she huffs, giving him a haughty glare while Gladiolus continues patching up the wound in her side. She grimaces at the pain that shoots through her every time she moves but she will not be cowed by Noctis right now.

Yes. It had been a reckless decision to jump into the fray as she had, but sometimes one did not have time to make necessarily wise choices in the heat of a battle. In this case, she did what she had, had to do. As he did what he had to do all the time. For her efforts, they can consider this latest endeavor a victory toward their survival. So a not so fatal wound, though still deep, was well worth it, all things considering. She may have had to go against Noctis' direct orders to do it but that was also sometimes necessary. He has become increasingly bull headed where she was concerned and it had to stop. Now was a good a time as any to tell him so. Especially since, at the moment, he seemed to be in quite a snit if the tension in his shoulders are a clue.

"I have on idea why you seem to be in such an ill temper," she comments when Gladiolus prudently leaves the small tent that they are currently huddled in to give them a moment alone. "It is I that am the one injured and this mission was a success."  
>"You went against my direct..."<p>

"You who would have done the same thing had you been me," she snaps defensively.

"Do you know what will happen to you now, _Princess_?" he demands, coming closer to tower over her sitting form.

He looks quite fierce in his exaggerated anger. At least to her it is exaggerated, that is. He looks very imposing right now as he glares down at her. Which, of course, did not mean that she would cower like a frightened child.

"I knew the consequences," she admits. "But it would have gone badly had I not acted. We gained two more Undead today. You cannot possibly be upset about that."

"_Princess_," he growls in warning.

"My name is _Stella_," she retorts. "I am no longer a Princess."

"Then stop acting like a bratty one."

"Me?" she demands incredulously. "Yes, I am to suffer for this cruelly. Yes, I know you said not to and that I was risking my life, but I _had _to do it. You know I had to!"

They glare at each other then. She, nursing her freshly bandaged wound and he, standing over her with clenching and unclenching fists. They continued to stare heatedly at each other for several moments with neither one of them giving an inch. There are no more words to be said. He was overreacting. Hypocritical really, considering he threw caution to the wind every chance he got. He always took great risks. Why did she not have to either? They were fighting the same war; the same cause.

Noctis finally releases a long breathe before he kneels to her eye level and lays his hands on either side of her.

"How bad is it?" he asks softly in acceptance.

She releases her own sigh in relief that he is acquiescing to this. All the fight leaves her and only the pain remains. A _lot_ of pain.

"It hurts. A _lot_," she confesses with a wince when she tries to twist her torso. Until she looks into his blue eyes and ann breathe ceases to come into her lungs. A condition of which has nothing at all to do with her wound.

"How deep?" he asks, peering into her eyes for more signs of pain.

"Deep enough to matter," she answers quietly, finally showing him her own anxiety at being injured. "But not fatal on its own."  
>They both know what this means regardless. The wound itself would not kill her, but the poison would. She needed the antidote or it would spread. They have already both watched people die from Crystal poisoning.<p>

"We must act quickly," he states.

"Do not do anything rash on account of me," she insists.

"I hardly think my behavior is ever rational where you are concerned," he admits and her eyes fly to his in surprise.

Any civil comment that he may have made to her before had always been laced with an insult. This one did not sound like it had one. It sounded like the most genuine statement he has ever uttered to her. His face too, is unguarded and his concern is real. The face she had some times, at rare times, caught a glimpse of. What she had guessed he really was rather than the one she saw at all other times. She expects the other shoe to drop and for him to revert back to the way he usually was.

"You need to stop scaring me."

"You scare me too," she admits.

"How?"

"Everything about you scares me."

He frowns at her words while he processes them in his head.

"Then I suppose we suffer from the same affliction towards each other," he concludes.

"Is that why you act the way you do towards me? Because I scare you?"

He looks at her as if thrown by her question and nods before he can check himself.

"Perhaps...we would be more productive around each other if we called a mutual truce by not scaring each other so much," she suggests carefully. She says it softly too, so as not to break the fragile air around them.

"But I _like_ fighting with you, Princess," he teases.

Somehow, the way he says that, makes her realize that she does get a sort of thrill from their verbal sparring as well. It shocks her to think this since she was not a confrontational person, but there was something decidedly appealing about bantering with this man. It made moments together never boring. She just hopes that he did not go to such great lengths to be exasperating like he has been. Sometimes he goes too far with it.

"I have a feeling that we shall always find _something_ to fight about," she concludes logically.

He gives her an unreadable look before he stands and head towards the entrance of the tent.

"I shall confer with Ignis on another mission right away in order to get a shipment of the antidote for you," he says with his back to her. "We do not have much time before you start to reach a critical stage of the poisoning."

"Thank you," she says weakly, feeling deflated and hurt that he should be leaving now.

"And princess," he says, still with his back to her.

"Yes?"

"Instead of a truce, could we not just have an understanding?"

"What would that be?"

"That I would never be the same without you."

For a moment, all she can do is question whether or not she really _had_ just heard him say those words. He turns to look back her from over his shoulder and the usual mocking smirk that usually accompanied these statements is not there.

"Do remember that the next time you decide to be so reckless because I will fly off the handle again," he says, pushing back the flap and is gone before she can gain her wits again.

How just like him to drop something like that on her and not give her time to form a proper response. Only, how did one respond to something like that anyway? All she knows for sure is that her cheeks are suddenly flushed and her heart is ready to beat right out of her chest in excitement and happiness. His words, though completely out of the parameters of their conversation, infuses her with such thrill and glee that she falls back onto the small cot and finds herself laughing like a school girl with her first crush.

She would never have fathomed just how much their relationship would shift after that charged interlude. Afterwards, it seemed that Noctis had resolved to let her in. Let her in so that she could see him. See the _real_ him. Her injury had ended up opening the way for them to become closer and settle into the would be lovers that brought her to this point in her life. No matter how much she had suffered in the aftermath of that cut, she can never be sorry that it had happened.

The scene changes to what their future might have been like together had, whatever that had happened to him, had not happened at all. That last night that they had spent together. That last night where she had been filled with such optimism on the cusp of a bright future. A place where she had not left that fateful day and stayed instead. How things would have turned out differently had she not gone. Things would not have happened as they had, if she had not left him. She should never have left when it was clear that Noctis had been afraid of something happening. No matter that he had urged her to leave and do her duty to her country. She knows now that _he _was her country. He was her home and look what has happened because she did not follow that belief?

Distantly, she can hear the sounds of crashing objects. Similar to the sounds of a war breaking out around her, but all she can really hear is Noctis' voice. Noctis' words in her ears.

_Is this your idea of foreplay, _Princess?

_I could take it as an insult that you find more interest in a rock than you do me._

_Projecting your own desires onto me is unseemly. Are you not a _Princess_?_

_I like you too, _Princess_._

_I thought I made you burn. A passionate flame, I believe were your words._

_It wounds me that you think I am not always aware._

_Because I like you, _Princess_._

_I have told you before that I have always felt the same._

_Is it significant that something so grotesque is considered beautiful? Does that mean that nothing is really ugly?_

_I think this portrait a thing of beauty. It so faithfully depicts the nature of man. It is how I envision myself._

_And can you look at me without feeling at least a vague sense of disgust?_

_Will you stay with me?_

_I need you as long as I live._

_It would probably seem less ominous if I told you I love you. It is absolutely ridiculous that I am more afraid to tell you that then facing death._

_I suppose that is only fair. Because you are brilliantly seductive yourself._

_I could very well destroy everything if I let it free, Stella._

What happened to the guy that wanted me to run from him? she had asked.

_He decided he wanted to run right after you._

_But I am _your _jerk. You will remember that, won't you?_

The crashing sounds are becoming louder now, making Noctis' voice sound hollow and further away than where it had been but she knows she needs to focus on them just a little longer.

_And can you look at me without feeling at least a vague sense of disgust?_

The crashing grows ever louder and now she was beginning to _feel_ the impact of them.

_Will you stay with me? I need you as long as I live._

Another crash, followed by an almost inhuman roar.

_I could never be the same without you..._

Violet eyes open to a black ceiling and looks unseeing up at it. The sounds of Crystals shattering and crashing is no longer muffled, but deafeningly clear. The tremors beneath the unrelenting stone floor at her back, vibrate with each heavy impact. There is another roar that echoes in through the walls and she shoots up into a seated position on the floor to find herself in the eye of an intense storm of rage.

Large boulders and broken beams from their fall are levitating around her and Erebus. The crashing is him smashing them through the thick walls, but not with a logical purpose. She realizes that he is angry, beyond angry and he is taking out his rage on the dark cavern that they are both inside together.

"Noctis, stop it!" she cries at his back and immediately, the large rocks and wood beams fall around them as the black, shiny helmet jerks around to look at her.


	48. Amplexus

**Prompt**: #30 Hug

**Summary**: How will she embrace what is to come?

**A/N: **The Distortion Series

Amplexus is Latin for, "an embracing".

_**Amplexus**_

They stare at each other a very long, silent moment after her impassioned plea. There is not even the sound of his characteristically rattling breathe to fill the terse silence that fell upon the crater that they were both stuck in together. For a split second of time, she is back in that cave with him, as she had been so long ago. He had stood over her then as he does now. Yet, unlike then however, no matter how far fetched and ridiculous it seems, she can sense the accusatory glare beneath that black sheen that hides his face from her.

"Is there a way out of here?" she asks tentatively, in order break the silence. Her mouth feels dry, hoarse under the intensity of his gaze.

As if to show her and he does so a tad incredulously, he teleports from where he stands to kneeling before her. No words are needed for her to get the message that he thinks her silly for even asking that.

"Forgive me for thinking that perhaps teleporting was not an option when you surely do not know where we are to begin with," she snips at him and then lets out a relieved breathe. To see that he was himself enough to be incredulous about that was a relief to her. "Are you angry with me for not finding anything useful to help you?"

He rattles at her before he shakes his head. Now he inclines his head and she can tell that he is looking her over for injury. She watches him do this for a moment and ponders how he had always had that ability. The kind of stare that one _felt_ even though they did not necessarily see it. The helmet did not change that. She knows he is angry too. He will not say, so she must nudge.

"You… you cannot possibly be angry about what happened just now."

He stiffens before swiftly gaining his feet and turning away from her.

"Why do you not speak?" she asks gently, slowly gaining her own feet but making no move to approach him in his turbulent agitation. "You have spoken before."

He turns to peer at her and responds with a shake of his head again. For the first time it occurs to her that perhaps it had not been his choice not to speak, but that he was being _prevented_ from speaking. He had never spoken a full sentence and each time had sounded almost cracked, choked from ill use. She had been too preoccupied each time, that she had not noticed if he sounded anything like Noctis' own voice. If he was being prevented from speaking, did that mean he was fully aware? Or was he seeing the world as if it in a dream? He and the others appear to be controlled by _someone_, which might have them in a trance like state as she had been. This would account for any unfiltered emotion to show without any hesitation. A person lacks inhibition in dreams, afterall. The maelstrom that she had woken up to being a prime example of such ill restraint. What damage would such controlled stasis inflict on the brain? Especially considering just how long they must have been under that influence.

A hand in her hair startles her out of her thoughts and she looks up into the helmet once again. She presses her forehead against the plastic and her breathe fogs and defogs against the hard surface with each sigh.

"I wish I could see your face," she whispers mournfully.

The gentle hand cradling her head begins to shake with suppressed emotion before he jerks it and himself away from her in obvious frustration. His rasping breath is angry and harsh. His heaves sound painful to hear as he takes sharp breathes in an attempt to calm himself from causing more damage around them. The amount of energy radiating from crackles along the surface of her skin.

"You cannot take the helmet off of your own will, can you," she thinks aloud.

He sucks in a breath and turns to her again, willing her to guess right.

"How can I help?" she offers, wishing that she could embrace him to her and give him the comfort that he so obviously needs. Yet, right now she could not give it to him. Her eyes rove over the destruction around her and then is struck with a thought. "It was your anger. Noctis, it was your anger that triggered Ignis' safety measures, wasn't it? Are you losing control of your powers? Are you breaking from their hold?"

The more she looks at him, she decides that he _must_ be aware. The amount of anguish he has been projecting can only be that. She feels her own frustration at a breaking point as well. She wants _her_ Noctis back and she hates seeing him so powerless.

He makes no move to answer her questions, which is just as well she supposes, because it would not be productive for him to try and sign answers to her. He would not be able to do even that anyway, she surmises. Had he the ability to speak, he might have said something snide in order to rile her up. As much as it had annoyed her when he did in the beginning of their relationship, even that facet of his personality had been missed. As infuriating as he had been, he had never been false. So when he stretches out his hand for her to take, she puts her hand in his without pause, trusting herself into his care. He teleports them out of the crater and begins to pull her insistently along behind him through the darkness. A darkness deep down, where the only lights are the orange glows strategically aligned around his outfit and those are only enough to make _him_visible in the black nothingness around her. It is insane and unwise to trust him so readily, but she does. She knows, without any doubt of where he is taking her. There is no reason for her to put up a fight, when she had wanted to go there anyway. Now she had a more sure guide to take her there.

In a round about way, this reminds her of that time she and Noctis were together in the woods again. How at odds they had been and how difficult and evasive he had been then too. Whether by choice or not, he was being the same way now. The difference is that she will not make a fuss and trust him. Like then, she had not known the many details that were involved but she is older and wiser now. This was one part her gut instincts and two parts what she knows of him. She knows he has a reason and she knows where he is taking her now and she feels like she is a few more steps forward.

Though she cannot see, she can sense other things. By the murky smell, she knows that they are very deep underground. Down in the eerie depths of the massive metropolis above. Her skin begins to crawl and the hairs at the back of her neck stand on end the more they get closer to their destination and one thing soon becomes clear. This was an evil place. A place of extreme power and ultimately wicked. The very air down here is dead and still and she tries not to breathe it in too deeply. Involuntarily, she squeezes his hand in her distress. Which he notices immediately and turns his head to stare at her a moment. His rattling breath feels like a comforting sound while he gives her hand another gentle tug of encouragement to keep her moving.

"Is it much farther?"

Only, from the movement of the lights, she know he has shaken his head in answer to her. It definitely is not when not ten steps later, the unmistakable sounds of a rusty door being shoved open screeches in the darkness. Then another gentle tug on her hand before she is led into a massive room of greenish hued light. No, not a room. She lets out a gasp of dismay as she realizes what it is.

A laboratory.

Not just any laboratory either. One that looks just like the many testing facilities where the Undead had been captured within to be experimented on and eventually exterminated in. Much like the one she had been held in before Noctis had come to save her so many years ago.

"This is where you would come to hide all those times the guys mentioned?" she asks, furrowing her brow. That did not make any sense. Why would he come to a place that gave them both nightmares, given their experiences? He had hated everything about places like this.

He shakes his head in answer, before pointing to a row of upright, human sized capsules in the middle of the lab. She looks between them uneasily before walking forward to approach them. Not _too_ closely, but enough. The glass is fogged and no inner lights to give away the specimens. Nonetheless, a chill runs up and down her spine as a deep sense of foreboding takes over her. Nothing, though, could have braced her for what she sees when he flips a switch that reveals what is behind the glass of each capsule. A strangled cry of disgust and horror escapes from deep within her heart, making her stumble back at the shock of it.

Each capsule contains, what are obviously, botched attempts at _cloning_ Noctis. Each of them a grotesque figure of deformed versions of Noctis. The first seemed half human and half monster. Another was missing limbs. They were all defective by various degrees. Yet, with each failed attempt, they got better until the last capsule. Which was ruptured. Whoever had been inside it had broken out instead of being brought out.

Her startled violet eyes fly to the black helmet.

"So Erebus' main lab was here? Just like we had suspected?"

He nods, looking at her intently, almost willing her to figure it out.

"Who is behind it all then?" she asks, taking in all the details around her. For clues that she can find in order to piece it all together. "But Erebus is dead. Who is controlling you?"

His head jerks to the now empty capsule.

"_He_ is?" she asks in disbelief. "Your _clone_ is behind all this?"

He lets out a growl of anger but before he can do anything else, he is cut short without warning. He crumbles to his knees, clutching his head in obvious pain.

A cackling laugh sounds in her ears then, as Noctis continues to hold his head in agony.

The voice. The voice has returned.

_You bring the stupid girl too late._

_Failure!_

_Just like the powerless goddess that you worship._

_When__you,_all_of__you,__should__worship_me!

"Muin," she whispers, understanding at last. Her scan around them but see nothing. Though, of course, she would see nothing. "Muin, is the one that speaks." She looks over at Noctis with wide eyes. The enormity of their situation barreling down upon her.

It all made sense now. It explained the hostility behind the words she has heard thus far. Noctis' patron goddess was Etro. Etro who looked just like Muin. Etro who was powerless. Denied that power by her maker, Beniberzei, because of her resemblance to his mother, Muin. For that reason alone, she was given nothing. Yet, what was Etro's gift to mankind after she was bid by her grandmother to bring balance? She gave them chaos. She gave them a heart.

_Worship so stupid and so useless a goddess while I drown in the invisible realm!_

_Now we can make the world right, with the right leader at last!_

_A new god to bring the balance where they had all failed._

_The way it should have always been._

"But, he is _not_ Noctis," she states defiantly to the air.

_Just as well when he controls him. Now we are finally ready to begin._

"Ready for what?" she asks.

"For the way the world should have been," states the Imposter, strutting into view. He saunters on until he is right in front of her with a malevolent smirk that looked ugly on Noctis' face.

When she turns to look at him fully, she notices Noctis stiffen in his crouched position beside her. Stiffen unnaturally so. Then methodically rises to his feet like a puppet on a string. It pains and angers her to witness the extent of the control being exerted over him. That someone as strong and independent as Noctis as always been, is forced to endure someone else's will imposed upon his body, is enraging.

"Do you plan to control him forever?"

"Not forever," the Imposter replies with a smile. "Only as long as I need him."

"Was this Erebus' plan as well?" she demands. "Was this always the ultimate plan?"

"You do not understand I see," he says on a patient sigh. Taking a firm hold on her arm, he drags her along beside him to a hidden elevator at the far end of the lab. "It was not meant to be this way."

"What are you going to do with me? Send me to the sands? Am I to be another one of your minions?" she hisses.

"I think you have already figured out the purpose of the sands," he comments.

Yes. How very medieval it had all seemed, but a good test to the talents of the individual. The winners were the ones that would hold a higher position in rank. If they lost, well she had not stayed long enough to see what exactly happened to the losers. It should have been noted before that she had never actually seen anyone killed. Yet now was not the time to wonder about that. That is not what is important now.

"Besides, I like you, just as you are," he states.

A statement she easily ignores.

"What did you mean by that?" she asks, as he pulls her into the lift. "By, it was not meant to be this way?"

"I mean chaos. The chaos inside each of us that makes us irrational and sentimental beings."

"You mean Etro's gift? Our hearts?"

"Gift?" he asks, raising an eyebrow at her term. "More like a curse!"

"But it brings balance."

"Does it? Does it really? Look at the world outside these borders, Stella," he insists. "The hate and death that occur because of _feelings_. The world must be purged of emotion."

"With mind control?" she cries incredulously.

"If we must," he explains.

"You cannot take away a person's freedom to feel."

"Can I not?" he asks, his grip tightening on her arm. "Why do you think I was chosen? Why do you think I am the chosen vessel to met out these decrees?"

"But you are _not_ Noctis," she reminds him.

"No," he answers truthfully. "I am better. I am not so short sighted as he was."

"Short sighted?" she asks in disbelief.

"He would have kept the world as it was. In hateful chaos," he explains. "I will not be so naïve."

"We were in the process of uniting the world."

"With love and harmony?" he asks with indignant disdain. "Yeah, like _that_ was going to be successful. Not when 'normal' people would always hate the Undead. They will _never_ accept us."

"So you just plan on controlling the world?" she asks in disbelief. "Are you mad?"

"You grasp so little and think things with too much complexity," he tsks. "The world is as big and as small as we make it."

The elevator opens and he ushers her out, revealing an army of armored soldiers. Their numbers look as vast as the sea with their sheer mass. They all turn to him in unison and bow in homage as if one body. This is what he had been planning? This what Erebus and originally, Muin, had commissioned him to do?

"Do you see how much more harmony is to be had this way?" he asks, motioning to his army. One that moves as one being instead of a great many. It looked to her unnatural and so false. What good was life without individual character?

"This is madness," she whispers faintly. The wrongness of it screaming out at her.

"The world I build will be for the Undead. For it is the Undead that are the supreme beings and they will be the ones to rid everyone else in order to let the new world thrive."

"With you as King, no doubt," she says, looking at his face.

He smiles evilly down at her. "Noctis is the descendent of Lindzei and the protector of the Crystal. Which means that I am the same. There will be no question as to who holds the most power to rule. No one will risk Beniberzei."

"Where do I fit into all this?"

"You will be my queen, of course."

Down below, she can hear the echoing cries of Noctis. The real Noctis. _Her_ Noctis. His bellows reach her ears and she can feel them inside herself. His anger and frustration at being helpless in the face of this tyranny are tangible things. She feels them all too. Then she hears a loud booming noise before the ground beneath her trembles.

"He can be angry all he wants," comments the Imposter wryly. "But we both know he cannot do a thing."

"They are ready to move," she states. "Where are they going?"

"The first step to our venture," he replies, smirking down at her. His red eyes gleam and harden in gleeful triumph. "We destroy Tenebrae."

I have borrowed heavily from the Crystallis mythology located at: http : / dilly-shilly (dot) blogspot (dot) com/2011/01/fabula-nova-crystallis-mythology (dot) html


	49. Deus

**Prompt**: #45 God

**Summary**: How does the ending go?

**A/N**: It is here at last!

Deus is Latin for, "god".

_**Deus**_

The reasons for Erebus' betrayal and his working for those whose aim had been to destroy the Undead, had always puzzled her. He had been an Undead himself, which had always seemed like a major conflict of interest. His motives had never made sense to her and neither, she was sure, to Selene. In that, she and Selene were like sisters. Both had considered Erebus a dependable male figure to turn to for guidance and he had betrayed them both in the end. He had sent both of them to exterminate the only thing that could stand in his way of world domination for the sake of his goddess, Muin. He sent them both to kill Noctis. In the end, he had double crossed both sides because of his warped agenda.

Noctis was both a barrier and a way for Erebus to gain control. He had known that Noctis was the key to everything and so had set out to clone him when it became obvious that Noctis would never join his cause. He had obviously taken advantage of Noctis' capture and had wished to poison him after taking a successful sample. Had he known just what he had created?

The Imposter. The _clone_. Who was almost as clever as Noctis and was most likely just as powerful too had been the end result. He was Erebus' masterpiece. So when Erebus had been slain under the hand of Noctis, his own version had carried on his works. What she is seeing now is the fruitage of all that work and planning. The reasons behind closing off an entire capital. All so that he could form an army entirely controlled by himself. It had given him time so that he could perfect his control on other Undead. A detail that was gravely overlooked. For all these were indeed Undead, not just citizens of Nihilsomno. How could they have missed all this? Had this not been the very reason she had been so determined to come? True, the biggest reason had been Noctis but there had been political reasons for her trespassing too. Someone like Noctis would not just idly waste away five years behind closed doors doing nothing. She had known this, but all the others had merely brushed off her concerns. They had simply been happy in the knowledge that nothing was happening. Nothing, to them, meant that there was no danger. Which she thought foolish considering there was always a calm before a storm. This, was the storm.

"Was it your idea to release the Behemoth that night?" she asks, keeping her eyes on the steadily marching army. The very one commissioned to destroy each major city, starting with her own.

"I knew it was too much of a temptation for him to pass up," he replies smugly. "Though, I must confess, I had hoped it would infect _all_ of them. Not just him."

So the original plan _had_ included the guys. Only Ignis and Gladiolus had not been there that night and by some fortune, Prompto had been spared as well.

"You had to be so theatrical about it?" she inquires. "You could have just put the virus in their food."

"Perhaps," he says noncommittally. "But the chances of him finding out that his food was tainted were not in my favor. Noctis has always had a sense about these things."

Which meant _he_ did as well. She needed to tread very carefully.

He was very, very clever. Not that she will say it aloud since it was clear that he knew just how clever he was. That too, was just like Noctis. That self assured nature. Especially when he had obviously planned so meticulously and bided his time patiently. The first phase was exposing a victim to the virus, which made them susceptible to the mind control. The second was the transceiver. Hers had been the necklace Noctis had said she had been wearing when she fought him. What would Noctis' be? It could not be the helmet. Surely, he had to take it off at times and the Imposter was smart enough never to give Noctis such an opportunity to break the connection. What else did that leave? The body suit that he has been wearing was binding and did not look as if one could hide anything else. Indeed he had his utility belt for anything he may need to carry around with him, like he always did. He was also completely covered so there was no way to check, short of stripping him.

"How did you get a sample of my Crystal dust?" she asks, turning to watch his familiar and yet unfamiliar features.

Many similarities in expressions and inflections they might have, but she was not going to forget that they were different. They _were_ different and it hurts to look at him.

He angles his head, an adoring expression across his face. An open expression of affection that she had always yearned for from Noctis but had never received. Noctis had always either looked condescending, bland, torn or troubled. This, this was very different and unsettling. It hurt more. It hurt more than it should to see it on the clone's face.

"And I want the truth when you tell me," she says firmly. Had that been just a cloy to confuse her and give her doubt? She needs to know.

"I saw you," he states, after a moment. "I had not been out of the tube long and the facility I had been in was raided by you and the others. It was the first time I had seen any of you in the flesh. None of you saw me that day since I had kept in the shadows and watched. I watched all of you very carefully." He looks away distantly. "I saw Prompto collecting _his _dust and... I really cannot explain why, but I collected yours when all of you had left." Then he looks at her intently. "I could not recall that until I saw you again though. There are many things that I had not been able to remember since you came."

"Am I really to believe you?" she asks skeptically, though the ever optimistic side of her wanted to. As strange as it sounded, she wonders if his interest in her was natural since Noctis had been interested in her as well. Or was it just female pride that had her thinking so?

"Believe me or not Stella," he replies with a shrug. "But know that my rule is absolute."

"You are such a hypocrite," she accuses in a low voice. "You talk about the curse of feelings and yet you feel them yourself. You would rob everyone else of theirs and yet you have so many of your own."

"It is what a god must do."

"That only makes you selfish," she states. "That does not make you a god."

"I am doing what I was created to do."

"How can you truly believe that is the best course to take?"

"They wanted to do it to us," he hisses hatefully. "It is time they realized we are the better."

"They already do!" she cries. "You do not know how much progress has been made. You have been too busy holing yourself up here and executing this maniacal plan."

"Is the world truly so accepting?" he challenges. "Have you asked the people on your streets how they fair? Ask the bullied little boy who gets beaten just for being different and the lone individual who is scorned for simply surviving a brush with death. Do _they_ share your sentiments?"

"And what you are doing is better? You who would kill so many more."

"Only to those who have it coming to them," he says with absolution, looking out towards the army that is nearly gone. "You try to distract me but it will not work. I already know that Ignis and the others are trying to find the transmitter that controls my army."

She does her best not to show any emotion on her face at that.

He looks back at her with an evil smirk. "In fact, I believe they are currently at the decoy room now," he tells, turning to gaze towards the castle. "I am almost sorry that it is a trap."

He leans in closer to her as a loud explosion echoes from the castle, temporarily deafening her. Smoke and fire billow up from one of the high towers. She hopes, with all her heart, that it does not mean what he implies.

"The trigger is ignited when one tries to fiddle with the computer inside the room," he explains, putting an arm around her shoulders in mock sympathy, which she jerks away from. "Maybe they all went in together. Maybe one decided to sacrifice themselves just in case. I have taken measures to make sure that they are dead. Either way, they are not going to stop my army from attacking your fair Tenebrae."

"What do you expect from me?" she demands, trying to push down her worry for her friends. "You think I will surrender?"

"I know you will," he says arrogantly. "But I want you to accept that there is no one else." He walks into her space again so that he fills her vision completely. "I want you to know _me_."

"Why?"

"For the same reason I kept a memento of you all these years," he answers and they are both extremely aware of it there around his neck. "I want to know you too."

She shakes her head in answer. "I cannot know you the way you are suggesting."

"Why?" he demands heatedly. "I am the same as he."

"You will never be Noctis," she argues. "You may share his likeness but you are not him and I want _him_."

He makes a disgusted sound of disbelief at that.

"How can I feel any affection for you when you are the reason I cannot have him? How can I love you when you are trying to kill everything I cherish?" she asks, taking steps back and summoning her rapier. "How can I do anything else besides fight you with all that I am?"

"If only to die like all the others will?" he asks in disbelief of her logic.

"What is life if not with those you love?" she shoots back, lifting her sword in challenge. "Life without purpose is lower than death."

"I offer you one and you reject it," he replies angrily.

A black hued rune flashes behind him and a sword appears in his hand. Not unlike the broadsword Noctis preferred and even his crystals are like black quartz as they shatter on the ground around him. Did that mean that his powers are not the same either? She has yet to see him teleport.

"Living with me would bring you no purpose?" he asks with a low tone that contrasts with the angry black flames that blaze with such powerful intensity.

"Your world has no place for me," she says, taking a ready stance.

His attack, when it comes, is so swift that she barely has enough time to counter the blows before they can connect with her neck. Not only are his movements flawlessly done, there is great power behind each blow. When she manages to fend him off enough to gain a jump back, her arm feels the reverberations behind the strength of his blows. Noctis, though he may not be, she has no chance of besting him and it quickly becomes apparent that she will not even last a respectable amount of time against him either. Not that she hesitates for a moment to execute her own attack, using her natural flexibility and agility to evade, respond and fight with equal ferocity. She has not survived this long by accepting defeat in the face of such odds. Even when against a foe who is so infinitely more advanced than she.

"Just give in, Stella," he coaxes. "You cannot really believe death is better than being my Queen." He distracts her with a mock swing and masterfully twists his sword to gain her rapier in his left hand. "Just accept what you cannot stop."

"If I did that so easily, we would have never won the war," she spits out. She needs to anger him further. She has to distract him a little while longer. So she says what she knows will push him over the edge. "Why would I settle for a cheap imitation when I have known the original?"

Black flames ignite to monstrous proportions with his abrupt anger, melting her rapier into liquid metal. She stares as it drips down onto the stone floor in a pool of steel before her surprised gaze.

"Now that was very rude," he states, his voice calm where his emotions are not. "I really did not want to do this." He stalks towards her with his arm ready to strike. Those eyes. Those ruby colored eyes made his intentions clear. He was going to have her head for that remark..

In this moment, he is Death. As much Death as he claimed not to be and she does what she always does when faced with it. She lifts her chin defiantly, silently daring him to carrying out the killing blow.

When he swings, however, the blow never reaches her.

For, at the very last second, a body throws itself in front of her and a shiny black helmet feels the impact of the blade instead.

She cries out loud at the crunch of impact and the smoke escaping from the large crack along the sleek surface. Were it not for the soft squeeze from reassuring hands on her upper arms, she would have fainted. Through stunned eyes she watches the crack grow in length and expand. The tendrils of it stretching across the thick plastic like long arms. Genius that he is, he had angled his head just right to break the helmet in half. Then, those reassuring hands release her to grab at the sides of the helmet and yanks. It splits and shatters, granting her, her first glimpse of the face she has yearned to see for five long years.

"Noctis," she whispers in disbelief and awe. Those blue eyes, gleaning with such intensity. That face, whose expressions she knew. The one who is not a stranger.

His orange red rune flashes and his broadsword slashes through the air.

"Trying to rebel against me to save your precious, Stella is it?" asks the Imposter from somewhere in behind Noctis. "You know you cannot fight me." Noctis looks at her intensely, trying to communicate with his eyes, before turning to face his double. His breath harsh and angry and ready to fight.

Which left the next part to her. Two steps, she reminds herself. She notes the pale skin instead of black leather and latex that had been Noctis' body suit. Somehow he must have torn it off the majority of the upper portion of his body haphazardly. Had that been why he caused the explosion down in the lab? He was also gloveless with silvery blood streaming down his arm…

Wait.

Silvery blood.

Her eyes fly to the back of his head. That was how he could break enough of the Imposter's hold to be here. He had been slowly pushing the poison out of his body through the wound she had given him before. By gods, was that why he had looked at her so pointedly back in the bathroom of the safehouse? That meant one. That meant there was only one more thing that needed to be removed before he could be back to himself completely. The flare of hope has her eyes flying across his body in hopes of seeing what should not be there. Had she not just mused about having to have him strip down if she were to find it? He must have been reading her mind, as always. The smug look that he will undoubtedly have once this was all over would probably tempt her to slap him but also want to kiss him in relief too.

A twitch of his hand draws her gaze and she notices the ring he wears for the first time. Very, very clever when it would always be hidden by the gloves that Noctis always wore. The Imposter seems to catch where she must be staring because he shouts out in alarm. She can hear his swift approach to try and stop her but she has already thrown her body forward. She grabs for Noctis' hand with both of her own and yanks the offensive piece of jewelry off.

As soon as the ring losses contact with his skin an enormous surge of energy rocks the ground around them in a tidal wave of power. The wave blasts away from Noctis causing the new minions that are there to fall to their knees, the glass from nearby buildings to shatter and thrusting the Imposter back away for several feet as Noctis' roar of triumph at finally being released from his chains echoes around them.

Not that she has any real interest in all this when all she can think is to look at him from her vantage point on the floor. To look at that beloved face, free from all restraint and returning her stare the way he had always done it before. It is not until this very moment that it truly hits her how devastated she has been. How bereft she has felt without him. She had always kept her mind too busy to feel the heartache of losing him. Now it all hits her full force and tears are rolling down her cheeks with all her previously suppressed emotions. She feels a part of herself that had been severed and now renewed. Her heart feels revived and she knows that no matter the outcome of all of this, there was nothing if she were not with him.

"Noctis," she says breathlessly, her trembling with so much emotion, because there is nothing else she can think to say.

"I was right," he says softly, looking at her in that way that only he did. The feelings in his own eyes are so turbulent that it feels like it will burst from his chest. "I was not the same without you, Princess."

The joy that blossoms in her heart feels like a burst of sunshine, so warm do his eyes make her.

"Now, go check on the guys and Selene," he admonishes, his voice still a soft whisper, but she can hear the hoarseness too. Her eyes catch the scar across his throat while his attention turns back to the Imposter. "You can still change your mind."

"You still have not _won_ yet," spits the Imposter hatefully. "But I have to say, that this is the most fun I have had thus far."

"Go Stella," Noctis says in a husky sounding voice. His broadsword levitates towards her for her to take in place of her destroyed rapier while he summons the one he has used as Erebus. "This fight is mine and this is not something your eyes should see. Go find our friends and make sure they are all right."

His unquestioning certainty that they should all be alive makes her so proud.

"Can I trust you not to get controlled again?" she cannot help but ask with a small smirk in her voice.

"That, has passed," he answers levelly but there is a hint of a smirk in his voice too. "Hurry back, _Princess_. You have a lot of work to do."

There is no time to ask him what he means before he is leaping forward and attacking the Imposter viciously. Sparks fly when their swords clash, feeling like two explosives colliding with a harsh bang and she notices that the reddish orange of his rune has changed back to blue. Blue flame meets black and another vibrating boom rings around them as these two titans collide.

"Stop her!" shouts the Imposter and the platoon of remaining soldiers turn to her as one.

"Right. Off I go now," she says and makes good on her word by darting right past them and into one of the open roofed jeeps parked nearby. She cranks the engine, shifting into first, then quickly into second before tapping at her ear. Static meets her before multiple sounds are received through her comm. Too many are sending bits of sound that she cannot hear what is what. "Hello?"

More ambient noise, but that they seem to be somewhat working and the amount of movement she can hear, means that they must be alive, only too preoccupied to say something understandable to her. She can barely hear over the noise around her as she guns it towards the castle. She is just screeching to a halt in front of the burning tower when she starts hearing actual words from the comm and then the others finally come into sight.

"When I get my hands on that _Ticker_, I'm gonna…"

"Ticker?" asks Ignis in his usual dry tone and she has an overload of relief to her hear their easy battle banter.

"Yeah, _Ticker. _As in he ticks me off!" explains Prompto. "Sounds more colorful than, _Frakker_."

"Like you're gonna actually do anything anyway," snorts Gladiolus, but she does not fail to miss the pinched quality of his voice.

"You. Do not get to speak. You stupidly courageous, Brute," snaps a very annoyed sounding Selene followed by a grunt of pain. "When you recover properly I'm going to kick your tight arse."

"Why Knight, I hadn't thought you noticed."

"Do not even think that I would purposely…"

"Yeah, I think I'd rather _not_ hear about this now," comments Ignis wryly.

"Hey Look! There's Stell!" cries Prompto, managing to give her a welcome wave before he continues his brawling.

It is so good to see them!

Gladiolus is leaning heavily against a marble wall while Selene stays protectively at his side. Both are fighting fiercely though it is obvious that Gladiolus is suffering. Ignis is surrounded by a dozen soldiers while Prompto is trying to break the circle to get to him. She watches as Prompto slams the butt of his rifle against the helmeted foe in front of him with a cringe worthy crunch before giving her a cheeky grin.

"Bringing more company, Stell," comments Prompto with a laugh.

"From the loud crashing sounds over there, I'm assuming that Noct...?" asks Ignis.

"Is free!" she shouts, quickly helping them take care of the soldiers before the ones that had been fast on her heels could get out of their vehicle to join the fray.

Only, they are already there behind her. She turns towards a small platform, using it to leap head over heels backwards to stand in the middle of them with Noctis' broadsword in hand. It is heavier than she is used to, for sure, but she is glad for all those times they had practiced together and he had forced her to try various types of blades besides her own. Her movements are jerky due to the extra weight of the sword but she is quickly joined a moment later by Ignis. He trades a look with her before standing right at her back. Together they rotate to face off against the encircling platoon.

"Noctis is gonna be pissy at how many guys have been chasing you," Ignis jokes, the relief palpable in his voice.

"He being the leader," she replies with a smile.

"So is Noct back, back?" asks Prompto, felling another foe and soon every one of them is down.

She takes a moment to catch her breath before answering. "He is unmasked, unchained and unleashed for good."

"We need to get back to them quickly," advises Selene, shooting another scowl at Gladiolus before helping him move.

"Bossy woman," grumbles Gladiolus but he puts up no fuss.

"True that," says Prompto, referring to Selene's suggestion of urgency. "I gotta see the Noct against Noct action so I can cheer."

"What happened here?" she asks as they all get into the jeep.

"The only reason the Brute's still alive is because I had a feeling this place would be a decoy," replies Selene.

"Where is the real place then?" asks Prompto.

"Isn't it obvious?" asks Selene. "It's not a place. It's a _person_. The Imposter is doing it all in his mind."

"You're telling us that in order to stop the armies headed to Tenebrae, he has to die?" clarifies Prompto.

"Not like that wasn't the goal already," states Gladiolus as Ignis speeds along the streets back to Noctis.

All three of them seem as anxious to see Noctis as she is.

"Are you going to be all right?" she asks, looking at the gash in Gladiolus' leg.

"Definitely won't be joining the ballet now," comments Prompto.

"I'll be all right when this is all over," states Gladiolus, whacking Prompto in the back of the head in retaliation. Then he gives her an approving grin. "So you finally figured out how to free Noct."

"I did not do it all by myself," she says with a shrug. "When I cut him to get a sample, he started the first phase himself. He has been leaking the poison out of his body since."

"Ingenious all around, Stell," approves Prompto.

"You keep driving any slower we're gonna miss all the action," snarks Gladiolus to Ignis.

"Doubtfully," states Selene just as Noctis and the Imposter come into view.

Both look wounded in varying degrees, but they look far better than the amount of destruction around them.

"It's like two titans going at it," comments Prompto.

"Seems about right," agrees Gladiolus.

"Noctis cannot kill the Imposter. Just like he could not physically remove his transmitter without aid," states Selene.

"What? So what ticker gets to live?" demands Prompto.

"No, it just means that someone else has to kill him," explains Selene. "And I think Noctis has already designated who."

"Does he really have to die?" she asks despite it everything. Her compassionate side that hated the waste of life, making her ask.

"Don't get all sentimental about it, Stell," Prompto says not unkindly.

"Stella," says Ignis, gaining her attention. "It's not ideal, but it's got to be done."

"We can't put that burden on Stella," admonishes Gladiolus.

"But you have to," she says. "Because it is the truth."

"And okay, this is kinda freaky," blurts out Prompto, bringing their attention to the fight. "How do we know which one is Noct?"

Before she can ask how he could ask that, she turns around and then understands. Knowing which was which is not an easy feat considering the both of them are now topless and bloody. Physically, they look completely identical. One grabs the other in a tight chokehold and forces him to turn so that they can face Stella together.

"It is your choice now, Stella," says the one holding the other. "You must be the one to kill him."

His voice is raspy and his body too filthy with blood and dirt to see a scar at his neck.

"You have to be the one to choose," he rasps, giving her a familiar look hat takes back to long ago.

Her eyes lower to the one kneeling with his breath being nearly choked out of him. He does not make a move to speak and before she can say anything to him, the one holding him speaks again.

"I am your jerk. Remember?"

The statement startles her and she hesitates. She does not know why she hesitates nor why there is any doubt in her mind, but hesitate, she does. She looks back down at the one on his knees. His face, though, is not one that she expects. Instead of an imploring face, like the one standing over him, he gives her a haughty expression.

He jerks the hand around his throat away enough so he can speak hoarsely. "Projecting your own desires onto me is unseemly. Are you _not _a _Princess_?"

Then she knows. She knows why the hesitation because she feels none now. Without any more pause, she reacts, hurtling Noctis' broadsword right into the heart of the Imposter with all her might.

An unnatural silence stills the night air. An agonized wail carries in the breeze, as they all stare at the sword protruding from the Imposter's chest. All of them too stunned to do more than stare at the blade embedded so deeply in his chest. He releases Noctis from his chokehold and staggers backward to fall flat on his back.

"How did you know, Stell?" asks Prompto in an uncharacteristically low voice.

"His voice was all wrong," she says, almost as surprised as everyone else at what she has done.

Hacking coughs from Noctis has them all running towards him, as he staggers to his feet. His bright blue eyes pierce her for a long poignant moment, stopping them all in their tracks, before he turns to the dying Imposter at his feet.

"I told you it would not work," he says in his hoarse voice. There is nothing smug nor triumphant in his tone. He sounds weary and exhausted and above all, sad. Sad for the sake of someone that could have been him. "But I thank you for teaching me that waiting for later is too late."

The Imposters makes a choking sound, blood gurgling out of his mouth. They all watch in a mixture of emotions as the life slowly escapes his eyes. Just as those vivid red eyes lose their life, he looks at her and she can see the genuine look of yearning and want that he felt for her. A want she could never return. Instead she feels a sorrow that she can never express to him. Then, there is nothing. Nothing but the blankness of death within glassy, sightless eyes. A part of her heart hurts for the waste of life and the vibrancy that could have done so much. Only to do nothing but for the destruction of others. What other choice had he had when that had been all that he had been taught? She gives herself a moment to mourn his passing and closes her eyes.

When she reopens them, she looks at Noctis, feeling that rush of pure joy at him, _really_ him, finally being there.

"Ish, Noct," chides Prompto. "Couldn't have said anything romantic to convince it was you?"

"He claimed to be her jerk but I am her superfluous spaz _and _her jerk."

Just to hear him say that has all of them staring at him, frozen and immobile with enormous relief.

With a cry of sheer happiness, she launches herself into his arms and weeps into his bloodied neck with emotion.

"Never do that again," she demands softly between her sobs.

"Never again," he promises just as softly, cradling the back of her head gently while he runs a soothing hand up and down her back. "Never again."

She pulls away enough to drink in the features of his face and takes hold of it with both her hands. Tears roll down her cheeks unheeded because she does not care. She can not care when he is here and she has him again. At last! He lets her look her fill because he is looking at her just as intently. Then he is kissing her all over her face. Her cheeks, her eyelids, her nose and finally, her lips. He gives her three smacking kisses in quick succession before pressing his lips firmly against hers in a show of just how much he has missed her too.

They kiss and kiss and then kiss again, because she needs yet another. There was nothing like the taste of life on his lips. It is only when air becomes necessary, does he reluctantly part enough to stare down at her before jerking her back against him again. She squeezes him back just as fiercely before she becomes aware that the guys have surrounded them. Each of them look openly moved and glad at the return of their brother, their friend and Prince once again.

"I am sorry," Noctis says looking at each of them in turn.

"What the grapes, you sorry about?" demands Prompto, before launching himself onto Noctis' back in a huge bear hug. "Etro how I've missed you!"

"Trust you to feel guilty when you've got no reason to be," snorts Gladiolus who leans over and knocks his forehead against Noctis' before patting him soundly on the back.

"Figuring this out sooner was my job," states Ignis, the guilt, gladness and glumness evident in every line of his face.

Selene snorts, very loudly and shares a look with her. "And I thought we were supposed to be the drama queens."

"You aren't _psychic_," comments Prompto with a grin.

"I suppose we all feel a measure of guilt," concedes Gladiolus, looking between Noctis and the two others.

"It's so good to have you back, Noct," Ignis says thickly before pressing his forehead against Noct's like Gladiolus had before stepping back.

"Noctis," she says, hating to disrupt the moment but needing to know. "What about the army?"

"No worries, Princess," he says, pressing her even more tightly against him. "They stopped and are heading back now."

"How do you know?"

He looks pensive. "Because I can feel them."

"Feel them?"

"Just like the Imposter could control them, so can I," he admits softly.

"That's why he was infected too? Because that allowed the connection to form?" asks Ignis.

Noctis nods. "He perfected the virus, manipulating it so that he or I could gain control of the people. Right now my power is almost nonexistent now that I have purged the virus from my system. We still have to get their transmitters off."

"Is there an antidote?" asks Selene.

"Yes," Noctis says.

"This is going to be a major cleanup," states Ignis.

"And it's going to take forever," whines Prompto.

"It is," agrees Noctis, looking down at her face. "But some things just cannot be put off any longer."

She knew exactly what he meant.


	50. Libertas Aeta

**Prompt: **#50 Writer's Choice

**Summary: **It is now the Age of Freedom.

**A/N: **This is the end! I would like to thank all of you that have left such awesome reviews to keep me going and to all the readers who have stuck with me during this long and arduous journey.

Libertas Aeta is Latin for, "Freedom Age".

_**Libertas Aeta**_

The people of Nihilsomno were calling this, the Freedom Age. A two fold meaning. A new start with the freedom of choice restored. This time, they were finally and completely free from the oppression of being what they were by majority, the Undead. Most importantly, they were given back their free will. A freedom often wasted by simple minded fools, who did not appreciate the gift of choice. It is hard to understand what it is like to lose such a basic freedom until it is taken away so absolutely. The people had been in uproar once they had realized that they had been played and controlled in such a way. It was to be expected, of course and he had sympathized and agreed with their anger. How else would any one react when they realized that they had, had their free will taken away from them? Their on consolation, and the reason they had not rebelled into justifiable chaos, was that their own Prince had also fallen victim to the same ill treatment that they had. Their shared injustice had united them instead of tearing them apart. Something Muin and the clone had not anticipated.

Only, they had the deniability of living the past five years as if in a dream. These last years were as a figment of their imagination. A pleasant mix of cloudy and hazy images that never really came up to the surface of their consciences. That none of them had been forced to do anything malicious or wicked, made all the difference too. He, though, did not have that same luxury. This whole time, each and every day, every moment had been spent in helpless awareness. Muin and the clone had made it so, thinking it a fine torment for him and his "failure", so that he would know what he was being forced to do and tortured by the things he could not stop. The worst thing in the world is to know you had no control over your own body. To be aware of the terrible things you were doing as you did them and unable to stop it from happening. It was more than torture. It was an anguish of the most acutest sort. He had been forced into following a plan he would never have wanted to be a part of and would have fought vehemently to stop.

Not that he had been a total puppet the entire time. There had been a small amount of times that he had managed to maneuver certain things. Rare moments where he had been able to manipulate the outcomes, but they always had a very high price to his energy. Like the time he had managed to give the guys banishment instead of unseen slavery. He knew that they would never actually leave the city and that they would use the time wisely in hiding. It would be difficult for them, but they would have fared far better than in the mind control that had just started taking place at the time. He had known the clone would known that they would never leave as well, but that he would leave them be as long as they did not stir too much trouble. Through the years he had tried his best to keep their activities away from the clone as best he could and those were the only times, when his emotions were strongly in the reverse, that he was able to do it. Small, very tiny increments though they had been, they _had _been there. What the clone had _not_ known was the sign in which they would finally act.

Stella.

Stella's arrival would be when they all would be forced to act. Her coming would provoke him and the guys just enough to stop whatever the clone was devising. He had also known that Stella would effect his clone too. They were the same afterall. So it was a given that she would touch the clone where he thought he was lifeless. His own feelings for Stella were elemental and inevitable and he knew any copy of his would feel the same way. A fact that he had learned too late to acknowledge and was a source of constant regret. He should have admitted to it earlier to her. That did not mean it did not sit ill with him to use Stella in such a way. There was just no way around it. He is only glad that she understands why. She was the only one who would see beyond what she saw. In that way men and women were different. Men saw only what they could see in front of them. Women, felt and that was exactly what he had been counting on for her to save them all; for her to save _him_.

Waiting so long for her was agonizing. The days past slowly and then months had gone by while the clone's control strengthened throughout the city. After awhile his mind became numb and listless to the inactivity his consciousness played in his daily life. To preserve the strength to fight when it was needed, he went into a mode of idleness. He was always aware and covertly manipulated when he could but on the whole, he was forced to play along and did his part. In the latter years he was more like a stringed dummy, doing the will of the one so much like him, that even _he_ had begun to be afraid nobody would figure out the duplicity. That passage of time became almost a moot point in the hazy existence in which he had lived. Five years spent so numbly with only the occasional ache of missing his friends and missing _her_ ,the only thing to prove that he was not completely dead. He had begun to think that he would wait forever in that void.

And then, there she was.

Even in a surprisingly natural looking auburn wig with a concealing cloak, he had known her right away. He would know Stella no matter what she did to vainly try to hide her identity. His body had switched on in response to her presence The tension and alertness that tightened his entire body at noticing her was hard to shake off after being so malleable for so long. His body had been so languid that the alertness would surely be apparently to the clone immediately. So he had forced himself to relax and tried not to let the awareness of her show in his body language.

The events that followed did not surprise him very much. It delighted him to give Stella chase. He had never more been proud of her than in that moment when she had fairly flew from rooftop to rooftop, after her dangerous mission to get a blood sample from the clone. To see her flee so fluidly and uninhibited reminded him anew of all those things that had made him love her so. She was beauty personified. When, in her flight away from him, her cloak and wig had flown off her body, shedding the fake, he had been glad to see her as she should be seen. Her blond hair glistening behind her in a glittery ray of hope that had him recalling why he had tried so fervently to push her away before. He did not deserve this creature of light. Women like her should not stay with men like him. That had always been his reasoning until he realized, when she had beckoned him to wait for her to figure out how to save him, back at the hideout, that he could never try to push her away again.

Not that he had ever _wanted_ to push her away. It had only been his self preservation kicking in to force him to be mean when he had really only wanted to comply. Of course, he was not entirely _nice_ either. Not all of him was so obliging in nature afterall. When she had cut him for his own sample, little had she realized that she had already begun to save him. Her showing up at the Arena had been the beginning of his salvation and return. She had awoken him from the blank numbness of controlled helpless consciousness. With that slice of her blade and the consequent pain that resulted, he had never felt more alive. For he was _finally_ able to repeat what he had done so long ago when they had poisoned him in the labs. He could finally, by small incremental amounts, push the poison of control out of his veins. He had only to keep it from healing to keep the process going. Fortunately, neither the imposter nor anyone else, had noticed this steady endeavor. Just as _he_ had missed that first time.

The hope of the clone feeling an attachment to Stella had bitten him in the arse when they had all been in Ignis' lab. Seeing the intimate way in which the fake had gazed at Stella. Witnessing that longing that he himself felt when looking at her. How he had made to _kiss_ Stella, had caused a boiling in his blood that had surfaced to a physical presence when the building began to explode. Yes, he had known Ignis would have placed fail safes in these hideouts. Yes, he had felt a measure of satisfaction at forcing the clone away from Stella. Yet no, he had not wanted to lose such control of himself in that onslaught of intense fury and frustration. All that hate, resentment and agony that had been building up for those long years had destroyed a building. It had not just been the explosives, but a combination of his own rage that had been so destructive. It had all accumulated. What they had taken from him. What they had _stolen _from him. The rage and destructive power that he always tried to keep in check had been unleashed and there had been no stopping it once it began to unfurl.

That fury had not died down even a little until he heard her call out his name. Like a switch or splash of cold water or a healing balm, hearing his name uttered in her voice had snapped off his anger in an instant. The sounds of his name, his _real_ name, were tangible after having to hear him addressed by that detestable name of Erebus for so long. He had not realized until that moment, how much he had missed hearing someone address him with it. To call him what he should have been called all along. The return of his identity when he had lost it and nearly lost himself along the way. That it should be Stella made it that much sweeter to hear. She had seen him, _really_ seen him. Where no one else had. True, he had not given the guys a chance to, but he had always known that it would be Stella who would look past it all, as he had expected. It was victory of great worth to him.

Now that things were as they should be, instead of wanting time to linger and gather himself, all he wanted was to rush forward. No hesitations this time. He had found himself feeling as he had when his powers began surfacing in full force and Ignis had to tell him to slow down. Only now, he could appreciate the prudence of patience. Improvements would be slow, to be sure, as the world accepted him and what had happened. Stella had already begun the process of accepting the Undead into society. Making people understand that they were not so rare, all things considered. He was not naïve enough to believe that prejudices would evaporate instantly, now they were more wary of him than they were of the Undead. The wariness which he would use to his advantage because he was _not _going to let any acts of hostility towards his people and those like him, to be tolerated any longer. Any act would be met with justly. He had lived through enough violence already but sometimes a use of force was necessary and he was not above using it when protecting his people. Bullies had to be confronted or else they would never back down. Turning the other cheek was not always the way. Justice had to be met.

There are so many things to consider now. Things that had, admittedly, being a puppet had saved him from having to face. Now, he had a nation to run and a world to guide and it was no easy feat. Unlike when he had been younger and impatient and impulsive, he has learned to be wise. He has seen both sides of control and how a balance needed to be made so that everyone benefited. He has learned so much through his experiences that all these things that needed to be addressed, did not seem so daunting. In fact, they seemed a bit easier to face than what he needed to face now. It all seemed so much easier than facing Stella and telling her, no convincing her, that being by his side for the rest of their lives was a wise decision for her. She was a princess, but would she be _his_ princess?

"Stop that," she says, in that low melodious voice of hers. She is leaning against him on the floor of the observation tower in the spot where everything started.

Their special place. It did not matter that it did not look so special now, having suffered neglect through the years.

"Stop deliberately self deprecating yourself," she adds in.

"You cannot even _see_ what I am doing," he replies with a smirk on his lips while his arms tighten around her.

"No need to," she says with a smirk of her own in her tone. "You have gone all tense on me and that is usually never a good thing."

He smiles at her knowing and a moment passes in easy silence.

"You _do_ know how much I need you, don't you?"

She twists her body so that she can see his face. Her expression is apprehensive and worried instead of satisfied at his confession.

"I told you then that I needed you as long as I live," he explains.

She does not respond but looks as if she is waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"I am wondering whether you needed me just as much."

At that, she looks even more confused. She wants to know what he is getting and she has gotten it into her head that he was trying to put distance between them again. Which was not so. There would be no distance between them again because he would never allow it again. Not anymore.

"If you found you did not, I was putting together reasons why you did."

Her expression changes dramatically and she rolls her eyes at him. He regrets the relief so obvious in her face now. He had given her so many reasons to doubt him. That was going to stop too.

"Because I want to marry you."

"You... you want to marry me?" she stammers.

It should have been a given, after all that they had been through. She had every right to demand he ask. To see her look so surprised made him feel even more guilty.

"I want you to be my princess."

"You are not going to ask?"

"I do not want to give you a chance to say no."

She gives him a speculative look. "Do you not wonder whether I would have endured so much for someone I did not?"

"You are _nice_," he says simply. "You would."

"So what reasons have you come up with to convince me to marry you?" she asks instead of addressing that statement.

"Because _I_ need you and I could never been the same without you."

"You are not the same anyway," she says bluntly.

"No, but you are the one that can keep me from the blackness."

"Then I will," she states, looking at him evenly and not at all like a woman who was ecstatic at having been asked to marry.

"You will?"

"Yes, I will," she repeats. "But my reason would be because I love you."

He gives her a long, intent look for a moment before answering.

"Love, does not seem a strong enough term to describe how I feel for you."

"How would you describe it then?"

"My world without you was all darkness and despair. With you the drab world is brilliant, bright and blisteringly vibrant. You make me feel everything."

Her hand on his face startles him and he feels revived all over again at her simple touch.

"Are you sure you want that?" she asks quietly and he can understand her need to ask.

His old self had run from feelings. The man he was now craved it. Yearned for it because he knew what it was like to have all those things taken away. He knew too much of losing freedom and he realizes now that it is only through feeling everything, that he could truly be free again. That is what they had done. They had freed him from the dreariness of control.

"Yes," he says in a vow, before pulling her into his arms and feeling that all encompassing need for her. That need, for life.

El fin.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: I am creating an entry at my LJ that lists all the prompts in chron order if one desires to read it all linearly. I hope you enjoyed reading this Fanfic50 series. :)<p> 


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